Inner Angels and Guardian Demons
by storytellers
Summary: Because everyone has them and they make each day tragically, hilariously, hopefully unique. A/C 50 prompts, 50 segments in 5 parts. All of your favorite cliches plus a chronological storyline and some romance. What more do you want?
1. Chapter 1

**You S****hould Know That:** I have already written the whole thing. All 50 segments. It's complete and edited and ready. So I swear I will not leave anyone hanging in the middle of the story. But I am begging you to leave a comment before I post the next parts and really tell me what you liked and why. The reason why most of us authors are such review whores is because we worship you readers and we really need to find out what exactly our writing does to you. Pretty please, drop me a line and I'll post Part 2 immediately.

**Disclaimer:** Good Omens and all of its characters belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. I am just borrowing them and I'm not making any profit. The song 'Two Thousand Years' belongs to Billy Joel.

**Warnings:** I'm being completely unoriginal here so this is once again Crowley/Aziraphale slash like almost everything in the fandom. This means a romantic relationship between two men, although technically angels and demons are not supposed to have gender. I'm taking the liberty to say that they are both particularly 'making an effort' so there's your warning. Hints of sexual situations. There is also bad language and violence, sometimes a bit explicit. And occasionally huge amounts of fluff.

**Author's Notes: **This was inspired by a lovely piece of GO fan fiction called '50 Accounts of Hisses and Halos' written by saxgirl42. I recommend it. I am using the same 50 prompts here but there are several significant differences between this fic and saxgirl42's (besides content, obviously). Most of these segments are way too long to be called drabbles. They are also in chronological order and there is a storyline going throughout the whole thing.

Apart from that, since I'm just your regular fangirl so you can find pretty much every cliché ever written about Crowley and Aziraphale in here. Seriously, if anyone wants to sue me for stealing an idea, go ahead but I just think there's a limited number of situations we want to see these guys in.

All of that said, enjoy and please leave a review. Pleeeeease!

_**Inner Angels and Guardian Demons**_

_**Part 1**_

_**Horizons**_

_**#1 Motion**_

Aziraphale sets foot out of Eden for the first time and is overwhelmed by how fast everything is moving and changing. He is not sure he likes it. It feels like there is no peace here, no tranquility.

Only a few generations have passed on Earth before God's decision to send him to watch over Humanity. But even with so few people around, something is always going on.

Angels are pretty much used to sitting around all day and contemplating God and the Light and Goodness. In Heaven, everything is stationary. There is no hunger or sorrow or anything else to spur anyone into action. So the souls that have been sent there just walk around and smile at each other and praise the Lord.

But in this mortal world, in this human body, Aziraphale is constantly distracted by something. The sun is heating his skin, men are hunting, women are cooking, children are fighting or playing, babies are crying, dogs are barking and he thinks he hears the sound of the world rolling.

He escapes to a mountain top to feel closer to home. He feels guilty for doing it. He is here to help the humans! Isn't he supposed to feel nothing but love for all of God's creations? He thinks he may not be able to love them if he can't understand them and he feels like a failure. But everything here is so foreign and so unreliably dynamic!

He is not exactly surprised when Crawly appears beside him. The demon has come here before Aziraphale. Satan has sent him after Adam and Eve to spread evil and tempt the poor souls. In fact, Crawly is part of the reason Aziraphale is here. The angel knows it would be wrong to blame him for that though.

The former snake does seem to enjoy this place quite a bit more than his counterpart.

"You've made me climb all the way up here. That's not very angelic of you, you know. So what's new in Heaven?" the demon asks with a grin. He sounds happily excited for some reason.

Aziraphale mumbles a greeting, shrugs at the question and continuous to stare into the distance. Crawly makes himself comfortable on the ground and puts the rough clay bowl he's been carrying in his lap.

"You know, it will be much more interesting with you here," He says and takes an enthusiastic swig from the bowl.

He sounds as if he's been organizing a party and after being hung up by everyone, he's just found out that someone is coming after all.

The angel turns to look at his companion.

Of course, he's not a snake anymore. Aziraphale has the vague feeling that he resembles his former angel self a bit but that's hard to confirm. Angels don't exactly look in a particular way when they are in Heaven. It's their personality that shapes the general impression they leave in the eyes of the beholder. But, come to think of it, angels are not supposed to have too much of a personality either. Or rather, they are all supposed to have the same one. Aziraphale has always felt a bit guilty for being different.

"You look like you need a drink," Crawly comments and offers him the bowl.

Aziraphale blinks at it.

"Huh?"

"A drink, angel, you need a drink. It's some kind of herbal mix the humans have learned to prepare. You'll like it."

Aziraphale is still perplexed.

"Is this an attempt to tempt me? Because neither me nor you really need to eat or drink."

Crawly rolls his yellow snake-y eyes.

"We don't _need _to. It doesn't mean we _can't_. And it doesn't mean you won't enjoy it. Come on, we're supposed to blend in with the humans. Do as they do. Did God specifically tell you not to drink anything?"

"I guess not."

"Then how am I tempting you with something you haven't been forbidden to do?"

Aziraphale finally takes the bowl and allows himself a small cautious sip.

"It's… strange. But it's kind of nice."

Crawly who has been watching him carefully breaks into a grin and winks.

"Told ya!"

After an hour or two and some more of the drink, the world seems a much nicer place. And what's more, the angel starts to feel its movement flowing trough him. It will later become an inseparable part of him but he doesn't know that yet.

He looks down at the valley below.

Just like before, men are hunting, women are cooking, children are fighting or playing, babies are crying, dogs are barking and he thinks he hears the sound of the world rolling. But it doesn't bother him anymore.

_**#2 Wrong**_

It doesn't take too much time on Earth for each of them to confirm their suspicions - they have both done the wrong thing back in the Garden of Eden. Well, in the demon's case (he's Crowley now and not Crawly) it's actually the right thing and that's why it's wrong.

The humans have developed so much after eating from the Tree of Knowledge! They are creating things that make Aziraphale stare in wonder and admiration. It doesn't seem like they were meant to stay in the Garden anyway. Crowley's apple just might have been the best thing that's happened to them.

But Aziraphale remembers how angry God was and is suddenly ashamed of such thoughts.

The fiery sword on the other hand… He _should_ have known giving someone a sword wasn't educational. The angel has no idea why he hasn't been severely admonished for that, at the very least. He attributes it to God's great mercy and goodness.

Crowley sees things another way. He suspects that both God and Lucifer are having a good laugh at their expense.

Both angel and demon are sometimes worried when they remember that occasion. But at the same time…

There is something comforting in the thought that not everything is absolute, that there is more to them than what they represent.

Aziraphale sees the fact that Crowley might have done something good as an excuse not to think he's completely evil.

Crowley sees the fact that Aziraphale might have messed up as an excuse not to find him annoyingly righteous.

Some more years pass and they don't mind being wrong so much anymore.

_**#3 Young**_

"Do you reckon God was ever young?" Crowley asks suddenly.

Aziraphale lifts his eyes from the book he is reading and surveys him critically.

"When did you manage to get drunk without me?"

"Come on, Aziraphale, I'm serious! There must have been a time when he was inexperienced and he was making mistakes."

"He can't make mistakes, my dear. He is GOD!"

"You know he was experimenting while he was creating the world! He made Light and he looked at it and said 'Oh, I like this, look at all the pretty colors!' It's in the Bible!"

Aziraphale is looking slightly horrified now and his eyes are darting around the room as if waiting for an Archangel to appear and smite them both.

"That's not precisely what he said!"

"It was something like that. So maybe that's why some of us Fell. Maybe he was still learning and he made some of us wrong. Can't you imagine him making angels and murmuring from time to time 'Oh, shit, I screwed this one up.'"

Aziraphale does actually imagine it and he finds it incredibly amusing. That's exactly what terrifies him.

"No, Crowley, for Heaven's sake, I can't imagine God, and we are talking about GOD here, saying… well, what you just said."

Crowley rolls his eyes at the angel's inability to pronounce a word like 'shit' but raises his hands in a peaceful gesture.

"All right, all right…"

A minute passes in silence.

Aziraphale notices the demon is pouting and sighs. Demons shouldn't be allowed to look hilariously adorable. Curiosity finally overpowers his indignation.

"Why do you even ask, dear?" he asks.

Crowley shrugs.

"It's just not fair. When humans have to make up excuses in front of their superiors, they get to say 'Haven't you ever been young?' Why don't we?"

"Do you actually believe that if you had been able to say that to God he wouldn't have let you Fall?"

"No, but it would have sounded like a good argument." Crowley says seriously before breaking into a grin. "Anyway, if I hadn't Fallen, at least one of us would have been stuck up there dying of boredom. What are the chances that they would send us both here if we were on the same side?"

Aziraphale doesn't say anything but he silently (and grudgingly) agrees that he'd rather be here than Up There.

_**#4 Last**_

Neither had expected the Arrangement to last so long. It had started at a time when both were just too tired and exasperated with humans to want to deal with the other's schemes. But then some time after that first occasion Crowley had called to warn the angel that he was planning something in a certain city and Aziraphale had agreed to leave him alone in exchange for free reign in another city and…

They had stuck to it for some reason and it had grown into a bit more than a business partnership. Neither would admit it in front of the other but Aziraphale who was a creature of faith devoted a frighteningly big amount of it to the Arrangement.

And Crowley sometimes swore on it. Those were the only times he actually felt compelled to keep his word.

In a world so rapidly changing (especially from an immortal's point of view) that was the great thing about the Arrangement – it lasted.

_**#5 Cool**_

Crowley didn't like hot water.

It was a misconception that all demons liked hotness and fire. They could withstand it to an extent but not all liked it. Crowley's problem was that he wasn't as dumb as most demons and he had better imagination.

Those without brains, physical or metaphorical, just didn't think about it and assumed that since they came from Hell, they should be happy with flames.

He liked the Sun of course. And nice warm days and things like that.

But one of the things hot water reminded him of was boiling cauldrons. He didn't like imagining himself in one of them. He had come way too close to that possibility during that non-Apocalypse business.

Crowley was afraid of Hell.

It wasn't because he was not a real demon. It was exactly because he _was_. He knew about torture better than most because, unlike other demons, he wasn't oblivious to others' suffering. Maybe it was the angel's influence but maybe it was just his own fear of the fate of the damned that kept him from being too fond of Hell.

But he _was_ a real demon. He was as real as they came. He had spread more evil on Earth than all the Dukes of Hell put together. The thing was, he had really taken care to _spread_ it good and wide like butter on a toast and it was a very thin layer. It was never very specific, never too personal. As a result, he had never in his whole career personally sent a soul to Hell. To his credit, he might have contributed to the condemnation of many with the gazillion small irritancies he caused. But not in the same way Hastur and Ligur worked to ruin a single soul for years.

He was also afraid of Heaven.

The second thing a hot bath reminded him of was holy water and the way it burned you. He had felt it once, that agonizing pain as the liquid spread and ate trough your skin.

It had been just one drop and it had been a long time ago, before the Arrangement. Prompted by Hastur and Ligur, Crowley had tried his hand at some genuinely evil stuff. His heart hadn't been in it and Aziraphale had easily managed to thwart him. But the angel had been so furious that he had actually threatened him with holy water. It was an obvious bluff, really. Even Aziraphale could not possibly have such bad aim unless it was on purpose. But one drop had landed on Crowley's skin anyway. That single drop had caused a severe burn that covered all of the back of his right hand and it hadn't healed for a month. Aziraphale had been utterly terrified. But at least it had set the record straight and neither had kept any grudges from the whole incident. Except towards Hastur and Ligur. Still…

He shuddered. Yes, he knew exactly what he had done to Ligur and the thought made him sick. Not because he had much sympathy for the Duke but because he knew it might happen to him some day.

He sank into the bathtub. The water was cool and he sighed in relief. His skin had started to grow hot just from thinking those thoughts. He wouldn't stay long because although he wasn't cold-blooded anymore, there was some leftover snakiness in him and he would start to shiver pretty soon. But for now, cool was good.

_**#6 Gentle**_

Aziraphale had asked Crowley more than once what happened to the houseplants that didn't quite meet the demon's high standards. He suspected he didn't want to know but some kind of morbid curiosity kept him asking.

"They go to a better place." Crowley always said and gave him an evil little smirk.

And Aziraphale imagined all kinds of horrible ends for the poor things. Until one day he found out by accident.

It was one of the rare occasions when they had decided to actually make use of Crowley's apartment instead of going out or drinking in the bookshop's back room. The angel was early for their appointment and was currently standing on the opposite sidewalk from the building considering whether it would be rude to go up anyway. And then the demon himself showed up carrying a large potted plant. Without seeing the angel, he got into the Bentley and carefully arranged the plant into the passenger's seat.

It was too good an opportunity to miss and Aziraphale couldn't resist the temptation. (Crowley would be proud if he knew.) Feeling more than ever like one of the agents around the duck pond, he caught a cab and ordered it to follow the Bentley. To his relief, the task actually proved possible with only one or two miracles on the way. To his even bigger relief, the cab driver didn't seem moved by the fact that his car seemed to pass right trough a few others. Thank God cab drivers in general were quite hard to disturb.

The Bentley pulled into a back alley. The cab stopped a little way away and Aziraphale got out, tipping the driver generously for his troubles. He was pretty terrible at lurking but what saved him was the fact that Crowley would never have guessed the angel was following him. Aziraphale peeked cautiously behind the corner. What he saw would have made jaws drop in both Heaven and Hell. The potted plant was still on the front seat and Crowley was now leaning over it, stroking its leaves affectionately and murmuring something Aziraphale couldn't quite make out. As he watched in amazement, the demon blew softly to clear a spec of dust from a leaf. Another inch forward and his lips touched the smooth green surface. Aziraphale pinched himself but the image did not dissolve. He was spying on a demon kissing a plant.

A moment later said demon picked the pot up from the seat. His follower quickly disappeared behind the corner and Crowley never suspected he was being watched as he left the plant with others of its kind put on display in front of a small shop. He also snatched an empty pot on the way to show to the other plants when he returned.

Left among its smaller and plainer cousins the plant looked so remarkably beautiful that someone was already buying it when the Bentley reappeared.

Aziraphale smiled softly. Who would have thought? They did indeed go to a better place.

He should have known. As demons went, Crowley was not particularly cruel by nature. Merely very troublesome and quite cunning. Enough to know that if his plants weren't so terrified of him, he would never get the results he was getting. Besides, he liked power and he liked being mean. Still, he apparently allowed himself to be gentle with the ones that were leaving. Maybe it could be presented as part of the whole evil plan. If only the rest of them knew that they were going trough so much horror for nothing…

The angel shook his head. Six millennia and Crowley still managed to confuse him. He couldn't decide if this whole plant business was good or evil. Should he tell Crowley's plants? No doubt, the demon was even now scaring the chlorophyll out of them but… Oh, well, those who were left could take it. And if they couldn't… Aziraphale imagined the expression a terrified houseplant would have (if plants had expressions to begin with) right after being lovingly kissed by a suspected serial plant killer. He laughed out loud as he was waving for another cab. He wasn't going to tell them. After all, he had to be just enough of a bastard to be likable, right?

And Crowley would probably never know why the angel kept grinning at him that night and chuckling more than the conversation demanded.

_**#7 One**_

One is a special number. It looks small but it's not. It bridges the gap between Nothing and Something.

Still, Aziraphale is now trying to convince himself that it doesn't make a difference. After all, he doesn't like all demons, just one.

That one demon has fallen asleep in his chair, a glass of wine left unfinished on the table beside him. Aziraphale can't think of anything that feels more natural or right than the two of them together in the back room of the shop.

Crowley is really asleep, not passed out from the alcohol. They haven't gotten very drunk this time and there doesn't seem to be a particular reason for them to. The world isn't ending anymore, neither of them is in too much trouble with their respective bosses and everything seems to be fine. But it has only been about a month after the whole Armageddon fiasco and Crowley has been quite restless. He drinks less and pays more attention to their conversations, as if he's constantly making sure he's not hallucinating. And this is the first time he has fallen asleep since then. Of course, the demon doesn't need sleep but he loves it. It's his way of dealing with the difficult stuff. Fall asleep and you might wake up in a different world where your current worries don't exist anymore. Aziraphale has the vague feeling that this time waking up in a different world is exactly what Crowley has been afraid of. The angel has done his best to reassure him, pulling him along into the rhythm of their favorite pastimes until everything feels normal again. It has finally worked. He isn't sure if this counts as a good deed but he is pleased with himself. The fact that Crowley is sleeping is an indication that things are back on track. And he has to admit that he himself has been a little paranoid. The possibility of losing all of the wonderful things the world offers – including one tiresome but quite friendly for his kind demon – has proven more troubling than anticipated.

He walks over to the sleeping form on the chair. There is something he has felt the urge to do for ages. On several occasions he has come quite close. But he has always managed to convince himself it isn't appropriate. Only because they are an angel and a demon and not for any other reason. It's nothing dirty after all. There are ages and countries where this sort of thing would not have even been considered gay. But the gesture is somehow too gentle, too meaningful. He hasn't dared.

Still, what is the worst that could happen? If the world hasn't ended when the Antichrist came, it certainly wouldn't end because of this.

He realizes this sounds like an excuse Crowley would make to tempt someone. But since when has he ever been able to resist Crowley's temptations? Ever since that first drink on the mountain top, whatever the damned snake offers, Aziraphale pretty much always agrees to. Said snake never offers anything too dangerous, though. Nothing that would cause the angel to Fall. Maybe he knows it would be too hard for Aziraphgale to say no. It's even harder now that Crowley is asleep and not knowingly doing anything.

Well, to Hell with it. Hopefully not literally.

Aziraphale leans down and places a soft kiss on the demon's temple. Just one. A single kiss, quite innocent at that. How would it change anything?

_**#8 Thousand**_

Aziraphale was not a man to give in easily to depression but there were certain occasions when he couldn't help but feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. One such occasion presented itself at the beginning of every new millennium.

While the whole world was celebrating New Year, he was standing alone by the window of the shop, a glass of wine in his hand, wondering about the point of his existence. Every one thousand years he would look at the world and realize that it was in no way better than before. That all of the good deeds he had done, or at least attempted to do, hadn't really changed anything. People were still poor and unhappy and angry. Murders and wars still happened and it wasn't because of Crowley or Hell in general. If he had had no opposition at all, he would still not have managed to make a difference. In fact, Crowley's presence on Earth only served to mask that fact. At first he had been hopeful about the coming of God's Son. But Jesus hadn't changed anything either. He had come, granted a few miracles, earned his place in the Bible and gone. And after the next thousand years had passed without much changing, Aziraphale had felt worse than ever before. Now the year was 2000 after Christ, the Apocalypse had been stopped and there was still no difference. Of course, the whole point of him and Crowley trying to stop the Apocalypse had been for things to remain the same. But Aziraphale couldn't think reasonably on this one night. He loved the world, he really did. And he understood that things were complicated. But once in a thousand years he allowed himself to be a whiny clichéd angel and feel sad that the world wasn't a better place, even if he knew he probably wouldn't like it if it was. Somehow dreaming about it still mattered.

He felt guilty in front of Crowley for spending a night wishing Evil did not exist. Even if he wasn't _really_ wishing it, just sort of _fantasizing_ _that he was wishing it_. That was why he always found an excuse not to spend that night with the demon. He stayed at home and wallowed in self pity while Crowley was at a party somewhere.

He gulped the last of his wine and headed into the back room for more when he heard a car pull in front of the shop.

No, it couldn't be him. Aziraphale had specifically told him he wanted to spend the evening with a very interesting manuscript and he didn't want any distractions. The last five times the demon had always left him alone on the night of a new millennium…

But the bell rang and, sure enough, there stood Crowley, his dark suit sprinkled with confetti and a ridiculous sparkly paper tiara in the form of the number 2000 on his head.

"What are you doing here? I told you I was-"

"Oh, come on," the demon cut him off, "you spend too much time around dusty books. It's New Year! Get your coat we're going for a ride."

"Crowley, seriously, not now…"

"I've put up with your excuses five times already. For a while I thought I should give you some privacy to do whatever it is you do when you want to get rid of me but you are not doing anything! If it's nothing more interesting than cursing the world, you and me included, for not matching your standards, you can do that in my company just as well. At least you'll be cursing at an animate object instead of your glass."

Aziraphale's jaw dropped.

"You knew?"

Yellow eyes rolled behind the shades.

"Please. How long have I known you? And you get gloomier and gloomier the year before every new millennium. You look at kids being rude to their parents and you shake your head as if it's something the scale of the holocaust. And on a night like this you probably feel double guilty for being associated with me. It's fine. I know you should be trying to please The Boss. But I never wanted you to try and please me. I won't mind you being a bit of a bastard. Wanna Damn me to Hell? Go right ahead. What would it matter? But just get in the car already, drinking alone isn't healthy."

With that Crowley marched off towards the Bentley. Aziraphale followed him without protest this time, picking his coat on the way. The actual meaning of what Crowley was saying was left to hang in the still air of the bookshop.

_I don't want just the side of you that you feel you should show. I want it all._

As he was walking towards the car, the angel's mind was chewing on an interesting thought. Maybe he _would_ in the end give more of himself to Crowley than he did to God. The notion was scary but… It was just _different_. He belonged to God because of _what _he was but he belonged to Crowley because of _who_ he was. And also because…

"Music?"

Aziraphale shrugged. He fully expected to hear 'Queen' yet again.

Crowley pushed 'play' and surprisingly, it was not Freddie Mercury this time.

Aziraphale stared at him incredulously as Billy Joel's voice filled the silence of the country road they were driving on. It wasn't the type of song the demon would normally choose to listen to, what with all the angel stuff in it. It had to have been picked particularly for the occasion. Aziraphale was suddenly stunned at the realization of how well Crowley really knew him.

"Listen." The demon said with a wink. "It's almost like Agnes Nutter's prophesies."

_In the beginning__  
__There was the cold and the night__  
__Prophets and angels gave us the fire and the light__  
__Man was triumphant__  
__Armed with the faith and the will__  
__Even the darkest ages couldn't kill__  
_

"You hear?" Crowley asked with a smirk. "'Gave us the fire and the light.' This must be a reference to a certain flaming sword."

"Oh, shut up!" Aziraphale snapped irritably and, true to his word, Crowley only grinned at the display of bad mood.

"Yeah but you see, it must have been a good thing because humanity did survive the 14th century."

They both shuddered at the thought of that age.

_Too many kingdoms__  
__Too many flags on the field__  
__So many battles, so many wounds to be healed__  
__Time is relentless__  
__Only true love perseveres__  
__It's been a long time and now I'm with you__  
__After two thousand years__  
_  
"_After siiiix thousand years_!" Crowley sang enthusiastically. "But we already know that people care more if something rhymes than how accurate it is."

Aziraphale laughed at this.

_This is our moment__  
__Here at the crossroads of time__  
__We hope our children carry our dreams down the line__  
__They are the vintage__  
__What kind of life will they live?__  
__Is this a curse or a blessing that we give?_

_Sometimes I wonder__  
__Why are we so blind to fate?__  
__Without compassion, there can be no end to hate__  
__No end to sorrow__  
__Caused by the same endless fears__  
__Why can't we learn from all we've been through__  
__After two thousand years?__  
_

Crowley didn't comment on this part but Aziraphale already knew why he had chosen this song. Billy Joel was throwing his own thoughts right back at him. The next verse made him bite his tongue.

_There will be miracles__  
__After the last war is won__  
__Science and poetry rule in the new world to come__  
__Prophets and angels__  
__Gave us the power to see__  
__What an amazing future there will be__  
_

"All right, all right, Crowley, I get the hint. Armageddon, the last war, Heaven's propaganda of how nice things would have been... It's all rubbish. I know. I just…"

He was cut off by Billy Joel's again.

_  
__And in the evening__  
__After the fire and the light__  
__One thing is certain: Nothing can hold back the night_

"Oh, I see…"

_  
__Time is relentless__  
__And as the past disappears__  
__We're on the verge of all things new_  
_We are two thousand years__  
_

"You see," Crowley began with the song still finishing in the background "I agree that things might really be better _some undetermined time in the future_. As long as the bright future _stays_ in the future, I don't have a problem with it. The way I see it, we help things to change. Not for better or worse _per se_ but they change. And that's important. I think that's all humans need - to hope that there is such a thing as a change for the better. So you've taken good care of them after all."

Aziraphale smiled.

"We both have. Thank you, my dear, I feel a lot better."

He did. And he was also realizing that it was completely pointless to try and hide any side of himself from Crowley. He belonged to God because of what he was but he belonged to Crowley because of who he was. And if there was ever a time… although such a thing was impossible… but if there was ever a time when God didn't understand… Crowley would.

And then for the first time they actually _celebrated_ the new millennium.

_**# 9 Torn**_

"Crowley, what do you think I should do?"

"I can't make the decision for you, angel."

"But I'm quite torn, I can't decide!"

"For… For my Bentley's sake, just make up your mind already, will you? I can't stand this! It's been going on forever! You have to decide so we can get a move on."

"But one of these choices will make you hate me, won't it?"

"Grrrr, Aziraphale, pleasssssse, just pick one!!"

"No, you tell me, which would you choose?"

"And get blamed for making you choose what I want? No, thanks."

"I'm choosing to trust a friend's opinion. I'm allowed to do that!"

Crowley let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine then! The blue one. Happy?"

"Not the pink one then?"

"No, not the pink one! Darn it, put on the blessed shirt already or I swear, I'll drag you to dinner shirtless!"

"All right, all right, dear, no need to get so worked up…"

_**#10 Learn**_

There are a lot of things that can be learned from books. But some things just have to be tested in practice.

Aziraphale reasons with himself that he is only doing this in order to be able to properly thwart Crowley. Because this is one part of human nature Crowley understands quite well and exploits all the time. And how is Aziraphale supposed to stop him while being ignorant on the subject? He has learned the theory long ago but no more than that. Because up until now he has felt it would be inappropriate to do it without love. And Aziraphale has never fallen in love with a human. But recently the angel has been feeling the urge to learn more. He still isn't sure if this is all right. Wanting to learn more is exactly what got Adam and Eve thrown out of Eden after all. On the other hand, he is quite certain that Heaven is supposed to support learning.

It is all so confusing!

Maybe it depends on whether you are learning the right stuff? He imagines the expression Crowley would acquire upon hearing this and suddenly the thought sounds idiotic even in his own head. How can there be 'right stuff' to learn? There's just knowledge. You get it or you don't.

The fact is, Aziraphale has always loved learning things, be it the gavotte or magic tricks. He just really hopes he is doing better at this particular thing than his past hobbies. The girls - and occasionally boys because angels are supposed to be sexless so he can't be accused of anything - never tell him the whole truth about his skills, of course. But some are willing to give advice.

To somehow justify himself he turns the whole thing into a miracle. It's never the same person twice because after an encounter with him all of them suddenly decide to fix their lives and end up either at University with a scholarship or married to a nice rich man. More often the first because Aziraphale is quickly running out of nice rich men.

He doesn't really know why he is doing it. But he is learning. He is actually becoming good at it. He feels a bit like he is preparing for some kind of test.

He has been terrified the first time but there hasn't been so much as an admonishing call from Heaven. So he takes that as a green light. After all, sex is supposed to be an expression of love and he is supposed to love all of God's creatures.

Still, Crowley would swallow his sunglasses if he knew.

**End of Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**You Should Know That: **There's a video connected to this story on youtube, it features one of my original songs. If you wanna take a look just search for selfxmadexstar (that's my name there).

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

**Warnings:** The same as in part 1

**Author's Note: **Concerning men crying and being emotional in general, I wasn't very fond of it (I sometimes wrote it but I wasn't fond of it) until I fell in love with a Spanish dramedy called 'Paco's Men'. And then I saw how it can be done in a manly fashion without looking annoying or making the man in question look like a total emo/pansy/inserttermhere. So I'll allow it. I'm sorry if it seems mushy to some of you but that's not how I see it. *shrug* Anyway, this story is mostly fantasizing anyway. ;P

Thanks to all who put this story on their favorite/alert lists. I would still appreciate any comments you have.

**_Inner Angels and Guardian Demons_**

**_Part 2_**

**_Where You Stand_**

**_# 11 Blur_**

Crowley doesn't normally cry. He rarely even fucking blinks, blessit! He is utterly irritated at the fact that everything is blurring in front of his eyes right now. It's nothing short of selfish, really. It's not like Aziraphale would be gone forever. It's just that it's been such a pleasant evening at the Ritz and he has been looking forward to a long, silly, meaningless talk with the angel. He feels like a child whose long-anticipated play-date has been cancelled – it's not really a tragedy but for some reason it's still heartbreaking.

He should have seen the bullet, stopped it, done something. It's completely ridiculous – a supernatural being getting hit by a stray bullet. It's not even supposed to be a dangerous neighborhood. Ridiculous, unexpected and utterly unwelcome.

"Shit," Crowley whispers staring down at the blurry image of the face of his friend and the rapidly growing dark red stain on his shirt.

The angel blinks in tired surprise when a tear actually slips from behind his counterpart's dark shades.

"Don't worry, dear," he reassures "Be right back."

"Yeah." Crowley clears his throat and wipes angrily at his cheek. "I'll se ya then."

There is the sound of an ambulance in the background but it's already too late. The demon drags himself back to his Bentley and drives away.

It's a horrible, stupid summer evening and there are more to come.

**_# 12 Wait_**

It's the wait that kills you, that's what people say. Even if you're sort of immortal.

Ever since Aziraphale's discorporation Crowley had been restless, irritated, anxious and just about every other condition that makes you bite your nails. In one word, he was in a Capitally Bad Mood. He almost felt like doing things bordering on Really and Truly Evil. But Aziraphale would be Majorly Pissed if he came back and found that Crowley had been taking advantage of his absence. And indulging in acts he wouldn't normally even think of committing, demon or not. It was part of the Arrangement too – every time one of them was discorporated, the other would refrain from doing anything major until his counterpart returned.

This was not the first time the angel's body had been killed and Crowley was always nervous when he had to wait for him. The truth was, he didn't like Aziraphale mingling too much with other angels. He always returned from Heaven feeling guilty about the Arrangement and their relationship. Crowley would usually counter with 'if it wasn't for the Arrangement, I would have destroyed the town by now, while you weren't here to stop me' and 'look at the nice shape everything's in and I even kept an eye on your precious books.'

Which was why he was now hanging to control by his teeth. He mostly stayed at home and terrorized his plants to the point when they actually started dying from the plant equivalent of heart attacks. He revived them and tried to keep his temper in check, telling himself that it wasn't because he cared for the plants or the angel or whatever. And the bringing back to life thing wasn't a miracle but quite the opposite. It was just to prolong their suffering.

He didn't know what was different this time but he felt even more anxious, even more impatient for his companion to come back. He _tried _to tell himself it was just because he was bored. It didn't work. He knew a premonition when he saw one and this one did not bode well. Of course, he was helpless to do anything about it. So he just drank himself into a stupor and waited.

**_# 13 Change_**

Crowly had been all joy when he'd found the clumsy message on his answering machine. Finally! It had been more than six months! He had driven down to Soho at an ungodly speed (just as was appropriate) not even stopping to pick up a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Welcome back gifts could wait. He wanted to see Aziraphale and he wanted to see him now. He burst into the bookshop and only just managed to skid to a halt in front of the angel without toppling them both to the floor.

"So what's new in Heaven?" he managed, barely able to speak trough his grin.

Aziraphale offered him tea and listened to his complains about how bored he had been. Crowley was so relieved to be once again in the small back room with his tartan-clad companion that it took a full fifteen minutes for him to notice something was wrong. But it did eventually hit him. Aziraphale's smile was a bit forced and his hands were restlessly fiddling with anything and everything they could find. The demon frowned, then sighed.

"All right, get it over with."

"What, dear?"

"The speech about how we shouldn't see each other. Blessit, angel, we almost met the end of the world together, one would think you would finally get that rubbish out of your head!"

A grimace of pain crossed the slightly round features.

"Oh, Crowley, it's not _my_ head you should be worried about."

"Well, I don't give a monkey's ass about what Michael or Gabriel or the rest of those stuck up bastards Up There have gotten into _their heads_! If we assume they are not just as empty as Hastur and Ligur's, that is."

To Crowly's surprise Aziraphale didn't even flinch at the bad language. That was not a good sign. The angel was just looking openly miserable now and avoided his gaze.

"Michael outright threatened that I would Fall if I didn't stop being friendly with demons," he confessed finally.

Crowley gaped. Falling? He hadn't expected they would go that far. Admonishment, yes. Some kind of unpleasant task and more paperwork for punishment, maybe. But Falling? That was a serious threat to make these days.

"But what for?" he asked incredulously, "You haven't done anything worse than what you've been doing for the last six millennia!"

"I know but they weren't paying much attention to us the last six millennia. After that Apocalypse thing… They've gotten it into their heads that you are making me disobedient."

Crowley was one step away from having smoke come out of his ears.

"For Go- For He- Fuck it, Aziraphale, I was prepared to face _Satan_ with a _tire iron _justbecause you asked me to!"

"I know but they don't care. Or rather, they say this kind of behavior is not natural so it must be some evil plan."

Crowley just stared at him, furious beyond belief.

"So they condemn me in general because they say I'm evil by nature and they condemn me in particular when I do something that isn't evil because it's not natural?! Angel, this is just…" He waved his hand at a loss for words. Then with a sigh he dropped into a chair and stared at the carpet.

"Nothing changes, you know. When you Fall. Nothing changes. You don't become a different person. I'm really the same as I was when I was an angel. Whatever made me a demon was always there from the very beginning. And if you were ever to Fall, which is a ridiculous notion, you wouldn't change either. So how do they think it's going to work? A demon that walks around dressed in tartan and calls people 'dear'?"

Aziraphale bit his lip, sharing his friend's frustration but unable to pretend he wasn't afraid.

"Crowley, look, I… It… It doesn't matter. Let's just go and have lunch, shall we? I… I'm sure Michael wouldn't really… I shouldn't have even told you, I'm sorry. Let's go, come on, I'm paying."

Crowley hesitantly followed him outside and into the car.

They went to the Ritz and ordered a nice meal and even nicer wine. But as much as Crowley wanted to believe everything was the same, it wasn't. He could tell Aziraphale was scared. He could tell he didn't want to be near him right now. And the irony of it all was that the angel was as brave as they came. He had raised a flaming sword against all Hell itself just to protect a few innocent humans. But the reason Falling terrified him so much was because he couldn't imagine being anything _but_ an angel. For all his little quirks that had allowed their friendship, Crowley knew that deep down Aziraphale was more angelic than the whole Host put together. Falling would destroy him. He would completely lose himself. How could they even suggest it? His place was not Down There. Had never been, would never be.

Crowley watched the suddenly pale plump hands drop the fork in the middle of the plate, sprinkling sauce all over the table cloth and he knew this was it. Blessit. When he had imagined things might change between them after the Apocalypse, this wasn't what he had had in mind.

Meal still untouched, he stood up slowly and reached to squeeze Aziraphale's shoulder.

"It's been nice, angel. Take care."

Not giving the other time to react, he was out of the restaurant before his eyes started burning treacherously. He slammed the door of the Bentley and stepped on the gas. The Apocalypse might have gone on and happened for all he cared.

**_# 14 Command_**

People's general impression of Aziraphale was indeed 'British, intelligent and gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide'. If you asked them for something more on the matter, they might say that he was friendly when you're not a book buyer and he liked tartan a bit too much. Words like 'frightening' or 'powerful' would definitely not pop up in their minds. And yet he could be those too.

He wouldn't normally have performed something as big as this without asking first. But right now he was both pissed off at the people Up There and trying to prove that he was still a real angel. He _usually_ preferred politeness and requests but that, as Crowley had often said, was the very reason why people _usually_ ignored him. The trick was to make it a command. To leave the person no choice to disobey. He could do it, if push came to shove. He had originally been a warrior after all, although even his fellow angels often forgot about that.

"Rise up!" Aziraphale said in his most commanding voice, only letting the dying woman at his feet see his wings and divine aura. The woman gasped in fear and wonder but her feet moved of their own accord. There was no question of disobeying that voice. Had Aziraphale commanded her to stand on her hands and tap-dance, she would have done that too.

Now he was telling her she was perfectly unharmed and even her body believed him.

Aziraphale for his part quickly delivered a short message about God's love and hurried to disappear in the commotion of policemen and paramedics trying to get people out of smashed cars. Even as he got back to the bookshop, his whole body still tingled with the aftereffects of unleashing his full power. He wished Crowley could have seen.

He wondered briefly if the demon had caused the accident in the first place. It wasn't his style but who knew. The Arrangement didn't exist anymore, did it?

On the other side of town Crowley closed the door of his apartment and dropped on the couch. He _had_ indeed caused the accident, although he hadn't meant it to get so out of control. Well… all the better, right? He had been feeling a lot eviler lately. And judging by today, Aziraphale was in top do-gooder shape. So both Heaven and Hell had gotten what they wanted after all.

In fact, the whole accident had just been an excuse to get closer to the angel. Even if he refused to admit it even to himself. The figure he had seen surrounded by divine light among the wreckage had been familiar and yet strangely foreign. And that voice! Why couldn't Aziraphale have used it when he was back in Heaven? With that voice, Crowley was sure, he could have made even the Archangels swallow their own halos.

But then again, it wouldn't have been worth it, would it? Not for some silly Arrangement with a demon.

**_# 15 Hold_**

_Earth was nothing but a small rock amidst a raging inferno of flames. A tornado was rising up to Heaven, trying to pull him up with it. But something else was keeping him there._

_"Don't let me go!"_

_Golden eyes stared up at him and Aziraphale tried to tighten his grip on the hand in his. It didn't work. His fingers were slipping. _

_"Don't you dare! Don't you dare leave me here alone! Hold on!" he shouted._

_Crowley__ shook his head sadly. _

_"You're the one who isn't holding on."_

_At the next moment, contrary to what he wanted to do, the angel let him go and the flames consumed him at the same time when the wind picked the lone figure on the rock up, sending him skywards. The rock burst and disappeared._

Aziraphale jerked awake and looked around, disoriented. He was alone in an armchair in his back room. What had happened? Why had he fallen asleep? He didn't normally, so why now? And because he didn't normally sleep, he wasn't used to nightmares either. What was that all about? He hadn't been there when Crowley had Fallen so it couldn't have been a memory.

His first instinct was to call the demon to see if he was okay. That was before he remembered he wasn't supposed to. His hand froze over the receiver and he bit his lip. Should he?

**_# 16 Need_**

After ringing the bell for the third time and getting no answer, Aziraphale tried the door. It was unlocked. The uneasy feeling in his stomach increased to the point of almost-panic. Crowley hadn't picked up his phone or his cell phone either. He could be avoiding him on purpose, of course, but that didn't explain the door. The lock wouldn't have stopped the angel but it did stop everyone else so it was normally used regularly.

"Crowley?" he called softly.

Nothing. The angel walked trough the neat apartment, looking around worriedly.

He finally found him in the bedroom. Or at least he found a demon-shaped lump on the bed.

'Oh, you lazy slob,' Aziraphale thought, his features relaxing into a relieved smile.

But then he frowned again. Crowley's breathing was too uneven for normal sleep. He stepped closer to the bed and yelped in surprise when a hand caught his. He almost pulled away - the demon's skin was very dry and burning hot. Instead, he ended up gripping back as if his life depended on it. Or at least someone's life. The dream from the night before coming back to him in detail served to turn his worry into true fear. He quickly sat on the bed and pulled the covers a little bit to reveal Crowley's face, eyes shut tight and features twisted in a grimace of pain. Whether it was real pain or just a nightmare, Aziraphale couldn't tell without waking him up. But with such high temperature, chances were something was seriously wrong. Crowley was a former snake after all - his skin was normally slightly cool.

Aziraphale pressed his free palm to his forehead.

"Crowley, my boy, can you hear me?" he whispered, "Wake up, dear."

To his relief, golden eyes fluttered open.

"Huh? A- Aziraphale? What are you – Where did you- Wait, am I awake?"

"You are now," Aziraphale assured him, particularly pleased at that fact. For a moment he had imagined he wouldn't be able to wake him.

"Oh, um… Then why are you here?"

"I think the proper question is why wasn't I here earlier." Aziraphale sighed. "What did you do to yourself? I didn't know you could get sick."

Crowley ignored the question in favor of asking his own.

"But what about Michael?"

Michael? Aziraphale had momentarily forgotten all about Michael and Falling. He just now remembered that Michael was the very reason he had no idea what was going on with Crowley. He took a deep breath.

"Well, Michael can shove his opinions up his ass along with the rest of the stuff he keeps in there to make him such a stuck-up bastard."

Crowley who rarely ever blinked did it three times. Then he gathered his jaw from the floor and burst into peals of laughter. He was joined by the angel as soon as Aziraphale managed to overcome his own shock at what he had said. It felt good to laugh. It felt especially good to laugh together again. Eventually though Crowley's laughs turned into a coughing fit and Aziraphale was reminded of the matter at hand.

"So where on Earth did that fever come from?"

Crowley slumped back into the pillows and avoided his gaze.

"My own fault. I did something stupid."

"You silly demon, what did you do?"

"I sort of… Well, I went Up There to talk to Michael. He wasn't very pleased. And the guys Down There weren't pleased either. So all of them in turn made sure I couldn't do it again."

The angel's eyes went as big as saucers.

"You did what?! They did what?! But I don't under-"

Before he could finish, Crowley turned his back to him and slowly spread his wings.

Or what was left of them. Aziraphale recoiled in shock.

"Oh my – " he swallowed heavily and pushed down the sudden desire to kill someone in order to take a better look at what was in front of him.

The white feathers were matted and stained with both dry and fresh blood and big parts of the wings had been chopped off by flaming swords or burned in hellfire. Aziraphale's heart clenched along with his fists. This was wrong. Crowley being a demon did not make it right at all.

"Oh, dear… I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say. It's all my fault…"

"Oh, don't you start now!" Crowley waved a hand in irritation. "Fault's my own. You didn't make me go. I just… That separation of ours, you know… I guess I'm not handling it well. I mean, there used to be periods when we didn't see each other for much longer than this but I knew that we would eventually…"

He trailed off, embarrassed.

"I should have gone Up There, not you." Aziraphale said softly.

"Look, forget about it. It's not like I was using them anyway…" was Crowley's lame attempt at nonchalance but his voice shook.

Just like with angels, a demon's wings were part of him. Losing them was like losing a limb. Aziraphale hoped with all his heart that the damage wasn't permanent but it was obviously bad enough to cause the fever. He miracled a soft cloth and a basin of warm water and started gently cleaning the blood. Crowley was quiet, shivering slightly at the touch. He almost felt like pushing the angel away and pretending he was fine. But after six thousand years what was the point of being embarrassed in front of each other?

Finally, Aziraphale dropped the cloth and ran his fingers along the lines of some of the deepest cuts, trying to determine what was severed and if it could be fixed. He'd rather not try his divine healing powers. They might hurt instead of help.

The feathers were soft beneath his touch, absolutely the same as any angel's.

"You'll be fine," Aziraphale concluded finally, part of the weight that had settled over his heart lifting, "They mostly just cut the feathers that allow you to fly. They'll grow back with a little time."

The figure in front of him fell forward on the bed in exhausted relief. Staying upright had taken an effort. Now he gratefully buried his face in the pillow the angel pushed beneath him. For one scary second Crowley thought he would break down completely. He had been certain he would have to live without his wings. He had also been certain he would have to live without Aziraphale. Now both seemed within reach again and he almost felt like crying.

It took every ounce of will he had but he managed to get some of his composure back. A moment later the pillow was lifted along with his head and placed on the angel's knees. A clean cloth, dipped in cool water this time, was pressed gently to the still hot skin on the side of his face and neck. Crowley unconsciously leaned into the touch. He felt a bit like burning paper. But the cloth helped. He wanted to fall asleep again but he didn't want to wake up and find the room empty.

"Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"And what if God really doesn't want you to associate with me?"

The angel paused as Crowley had known he would. Michael's threats were one thing (though a very serious thing) but Aziraphale's love for God was above all else. One poofy hand set the cloth aside and this time Crowley was sure the angel would get up and leave.

But then the moment was gone. The hand came down again, fingers running lightly trough the demon's hair.

"He'll understand," Aziraphale answered finally, "He doesn't really need me. You do."

Crowley literally forgot to breathe. God would _'understand'?_ But would he really?

Well, it was true that God wasn't in dire need of this particular Principality. God didn't need anyone in particular, did He? He was God after all.

"And you?"

The question was so quiet it was easy to miss but the angel heard it and laughed softly. It was a reassuring sound.

"Of course I need you, you silly serpent. Would I be here otherwise?"

And that was all Crowley needed to hear. He drifted off without a worry in the world.

Well, he still ached all over but who cared.

**_# 17 Vision_**

"But sir, your vision is fine!" the confused optician insisted. "Why are you buying new spectacles if you didn't even need the old ones?"

The tartan-clad gentleman smiled as he inspected the various models of reading glasses.

"My good man, you are missing the point. They are not for my vision. They are for someone else's."

"You are giving them as a gift to someone?"

"No. They are for somebody else's vision of me. They sort of… complete the picture of being British, intelligent and gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. I know you were thinking it."

The optician's jaw dropped.

"Don't worry," the gentleman laughed, "I don't mind being seen as gay, British and smart. I would just like to be seen as gay, British, smart and at least mildly good-looking. And these don't do the job."

He waved his old glasses.

"Er… right."

The optician shrugged and moved to show him some of the more popular models.

_'Crowley, you damned snake, you are well on your way to corrupting me!'_ Aziraphale thought to himself. _'Since when have I ever cared about how stylish my glasses are?'_

But when later that afternoon Crowley had the grace to notice the brand new shiny spectacles on his nose, a little vanity seemed worth it.

**_# 18 Attention_**

Aziraphale gulped. Everyone was throwing him curious glances. Principalities, Virtues, Archangels, everyone. It always happened when he visited Heaven because he never bothered to change his attire. And in the middle of a crowd that consisted of pristine white robes and divinely beautiful but slightly featureless faces, his cheerful tartan looked indeed very out of place. He tried not to crumble under all the attention he was getting.

He shouldn't have been called back so soon. After all, he had been back for a new body not long ago. But the little stunt he had pulled during Crowley's traffic accident had gotten his superiors' unwanted attention. He wasn't technically supposed to do stuff like that. In his defense, he mumbled something about the demon being discouraged from trying anything too evil since then. It was true enough. Crowley was too busy drinking and chatting away with him.

"Or maybe the vile creature has not yet recovered from his visit here," Michael remarked.

With all eyes on him, Aziraphale had to fight hard to keep his expression neutral and not indulge in his suicidal desire to tell the Archangel that he was a bastard. He merely shrugged.

They let him go only with a recommendation to try and keep from open displays of holiness unless really necessary. But he could feel Michael's suspicious gaze on his back as he walked out the gates.

Once he was back on Earth he sighed with relief and calmly walked down the street to his shop, mostly unnoticed by the passers-by. He liked it this way.

**_# 19 Soul_**

Humans were actually quite a bit luckier than angels and demons, even if they didn't realize it, Crowley thought. Because humans always got another chance. And another. And another. Contrary to popular belief, souls didn't stay in Heaven or Hell for all eternity. This could only happen to angels and demons because angels and demons did not reproduce. But human souls needed to be recycled and the energy used for the new babies that were being born. Crowley had often wondered if a soul was predestined to be good or evil. And if it had been to Hell before becoming a newborn, did it make a bad person again? Or did it as a rule make a better one because it had learned its lesson? Or was there any logic to it at all? But if a soul that had been to Hell could then go to Heaven, that was really a bit unfair. Because no fallen angel had ever been accepted back There. At least not to his knowledge.

Crowley didn't dream of going back or anything like that. He was fairly happy with the way things were now. But there had been a time… There had been a time when he had felt so angry! He knew he didn't fit well in Heaven so it only made sense for him to become a demon, even if he hadn't really meant to. (Well, come to that, he didn't exactly fit in Hell either but he still managed better there.) But he didn't understand why Falling had to be such a horrible experience. After all, it was simply making a better career choice. But no, it had to be painful and humiliating and everyone you ever knew pretended you were dead or considered you scum just because you were something else now.

Sometimes he tried to remember what Heaven had felt like when he had been an angel, when the very aura of the place didn't hurt his senses. Just like Aziraphale sometimes wished for a perfect world although he knew he wouldn't like it, Crowley sometimes longed for the one thing he couldn't have. Just for a moment, just out of curiosity to really feel Heaven again. Then he would know for sure it wasn't for him and he would _walk_ out of there instead of being thrown out as a punishment.

Blessed lucky humans. Sometimes he really wished he was a human soul. They had good and evil in them in equal amounts. They weren't missing anything.

If A.J. Crowley could see himself clearly, he would know that he was no different in that aspect. And had never been.

**_#20 Picture_**

"Crowley, why are we in an art gallery?"

"No particular reason," the demon shrugged "but I thought you liked art."

"Well, yes. And I know you do too. It's one of those borderline things, isn't it? I see these pictures as a triumph of human genius and you see them as…"

"A lot of naked people, mostly. Looking quite obscene occasionally."

"Maybe to your eyes. Nakedness in itself is not a sin. Actually, I find most of these almost divinely beautiful."

"Mhmm. What about this one?"

"Well, yes, this one in particular illustrates what I was sa-"

Aziraphale did a double-take on the picture.

"Crowley, dear… Is that… you?"

Crowley was already doubled over in a fit of barely restrained laughter at the angel's expression.

"Divinely beautiful, huh?" he taunted.

Aziraphale attempted to glare at him and pretend not to be interested in the picture all that much.

"So you dragged me here just to brag about how well you look naked?"

"Well, you were the one going on about nakedness being perfectly all right. Does that suddenly change when you happen to know one of the models?"

"Well… I didn't know you were _making an effort_."

"Why, aren't you?"

"Well, eh, yes but…"

"It's kind of like with Adam's dog, isn't it? The form shapes the nature. Don't try to tell me you don't think of yourself as male. And I keep getting blamed for going native anyway, might as well really earn it."

"Huh. Well, you have definitely earned it."

The angel was blushing furiously now and the demon dissolved into chuckles again.

A few days later a large flat package was delivered to Mr. Fell's bookshop. Aziraphale guessed what it was even before he opened it.

"Why, you shameless, vile creature," he muttered shaking his head. But he couldn't keep an amused smile from creeping to his lips as he looked at the indeed very nicely done picture.

**End of Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**You Should Know: **That I love all of my reviewers ;D

**Disclaimer:** Same as always, I still haven't gathered enough money to buy Crowley and Azi for myself.

**Warnings:** The same + weirdness

**Author's Note:** This is the part with the most humor in it so I'll be happy if I get at least two laughs out of you :P. As always, I'm extremely grateful when you review.

_**Inner Angels and Guardian Demons**_

_**Part **__**3**_

_**Apples and Cinnamon**_

_**# 21 Fool**_

"Fools," Crowley declares as he and Aziraphale spot a couple kissing near the duck pond.

"Now, now, my dear. You are just saying that because it is your job to. You do not honestly believe love to be a foolish thing."

"Oh, I do." Crowley insists quite convincingly. "People who fall in love are fools. They do things no normal person would ever do under the same circumstances."

'_Like flying up to Heaven when they know it may cost them their lives?'_

Aziraphale doesn't say it out loud. Sometimes he thinks he knows for a fact that Crowley loves him but other times the demon can be so convincingly uncaring… Like now. He continues to speak about love as if it is truly the stupidest thing in the world. The angel frowns and sighs and looks at the leaves under his feet as they walk down the alley.

"Well maybe you know better than I do. Maybe they _are_ fools."

Suddenly he can feel a soft breath on his ear.

"I alssso happen to know that foolsss end up happy more often than 'normalsss' do," Crowley hisses quietly before quickly strolling ahead.

Aziraphale has to jog to catch up.

"Hey, wait up!"

"What's wrong, angel? Not in the best shape?" the demon taunts with a devilish grin.

"Oh, shut up you!"

Aziraphale pushes him hard and sends him rolling in the gathered autumn leaves. Crowley is stunned for a moment. Then he bursts out laughing.

Propped up on his elbows with a leaf or two in his ruffled hair, the demon makes for a mesmerizing picture. His dark suit is in stark contrast with the twirling colors of the leaves. His shades have fallen on the grass and his yellow eyes are sparkling with laughter. Their color fits so beautifully with everything around…

"That wasn't very angelic," Crowley comments with his favorite phrase, still not caring to stand or even pick up his sunglasses.

"Well, you asked for it."

Aziraphale offers him a hand. Quite predictably, Crowley takes it and uses it to pull the angel down to the ground and stuff his face with leaves.

They haven't had any type of physical fight, even a friendly tumble like this, for centuries. They roll around until they are breathless with laughter and then some more because who needs to breathe anyway?

"So what about my shape?" Aziraphale growls playfully as he manages to pin his opponent beneath him. He can't remember the last time he has felt this young.

Crowley is laughing too hard to answer. He stops for a moment and takes in the sight of his angel, dirt and twigs and sunshine in his golden locks. He has never looked more angelic. And then the demon starts laughing again because it's wonderful and addictive and he doesn't want to stop.

"Fools," an old lady tells her small dog as they look at the two man-shaped creatures still wrestling on the ground. But her smile is warm as she shakes her head and continues her walk.

_**# 22 Mad**_

"Angel, will you stop wallowing in self pity?"

"But I messed up! Again!"

"You don't know for sure. It might turn out to be a blessing in disguise."

"How? Instead of getting a new home, that little orphan girl ended up in hospital with both of her legs broken and a mob boss wanting to kill her! How is that a blessing in disguise?"

Crowley hisses in frustration.

"Fine, you know what? You did mess up. Like you always do. Deal with it."

"What?!"

"Well, yes, you happen to be extremely lousy at your job. You are so bad that you are a bigger danger to humanity than I am."

"Crowley!"

"I have no idea why God created you in the first place. You couldn't even keep a demon from entering Eden. At best, you are completely useless."

"I AM NOT USELESS!"

Aziraphale slaps him. Hard. A second later the angel's hand flies to his mouth.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry!" he whispers.

To his surprise Crowley only smirks as he rubs at his cheek. Realization hits Aziraphale.

"You… You got me angry on purpose!"

"Yes. Feeling any better?"

"What? I- I just hit you! No, I don't feel better!"

"Oh, of course you do."

"Well, I… I guess I do. But that's awful!"

Crowley laughs and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come here, it's all right."

He casually hangs an arm across the angel's shoulders.

"Angels are allowed to get angry. Divine wrath and all that. But why do I always have to make you mad to get you to defend yourself?"

Aziraphale shrugs smiling a bit sheepishly.

"I don't know but it seems to help."

It also helps that twelve years later the girl in question is happily married and incredibly rich. Aziraphale's initial meddling really _has_ had a part in this.

So has Crowley's additional help, though he doesn't tell the angel.

Well, it's Aziraphale's own merit if he has managed to get a demon to perform a few secret miracles.

_**# 23 Child**_

The call Aziraphale had dreaded had come. Heaven had noticed he wasn't keeping away from Crowley like he should have been. His stomach was in a knot as he stood in front of the circle of light. Crowley himself had stormed out of the shop after an argument about whether to take the call or not.

To Aziraphale's relief, it wasn't Metatron or Michael.

"Gabriel?" He asked surprised when he heard the voice of the only female Archangel. Or at least he thought of her as female because her usual form and attitude suggested it. He must be going native too.

"Yes, to your fortune it's just me."

A very small and very cautious hope fluttered its wings in Aziraphale's chest. She didn't sound all that pissed off. He decided to wait for her to speak first. There was silence for a little while.

"That demon… How come you like him so much?" Gabriel asked eventually.

Aziraphale blinked, staring at the light a little stunned. It wasn't what he had expected to hear. He was being asked to explain his relationship with Crowley. It wasn't something he wanted to do in front of someone from Heaven. But their last separation and the incident with Crowley's wings had revealed just how much the demon meant to him. He had to stand up for the Arrangement.

"Well, after you've spent so many years being someone's enemy, you sort of… become friends…" he said nervously and gulped.

"He is a demon," Gabriel stated as if she was telling him something new.

"Um, yes," Aziraphale confirmed, feeling rather stupid.

'_And I am an angel. And this is a bookshop. And the sky is blue and when it rains it's wet,'_ he thought.

"But you believe he isn't evil?"

"Evil? No. A bit mean sometimes, maybe."

"Let me get this straight. You believe it is possible for demons not to be evil."

"Well… Based on experience, yes. You see, demons are kind of like children…"

"This is ridiculous. Demons are not pure or innocent at all."

"I didn't say they were. I only said they were like children."

There was a pause.

"So human children are evil?"

Aziraphale resisted the urge to say 'yes'.

"No. Not most of them. They are… careless and selfish and they ask too many questions and they can be very cruel but it is still generally believed that God likes them better than grown-ups."

"Hmph," Gabriel said.

"Look… I have known Crowley for so long. If he was such a bad influence, wouldn't I have Fallen by now? I don't mean to tempt Fate but… I feel like I'm in a much bigger danger of Falling when he's _not_ there to constantly remind me that _I'm_ the angel. So, please, could you tell Michael-"

"Michael doesn't know you're not following his order. I don't think he can even imagine such a thing. No one Up Here is paying much attention to you right now. I believe I'm the only one who noticed your disobedience."

"Oh. So this isn't an official call then?"

"No. I was just curious about the two of you. Keep this between us, but it gets rather dull in here sometimes."

"Right. Yes. Of course. In this case… would it be too much to ask you to…"

"I won't tell Michael."

He melted with relief.

"Thanks. Thank you. Well… be well. God be with you. May his Presence bring you joy and peace and…"

"That's all right, Aziraphale, I got the point. Be well yourself."

The connection was cut and Aziraphale breathed properly for the first time since the call had come.

Then he remembered something was amiss. A certain demon, to be precise. He grabbed his coat and a giant green and red tartan umbrella and went out into the rainy night.

He found Crowley in a little alley not far from the shop. The demon was leaning on the wall in the corner between two houses, arms crossed and shivering in the pouring rain.

"Oh for the love of – Crowley, why are you wet? I do believe you could have done something to prevent it. Getting under a roof for a start, if not something supernatural."

The demon shrugged and kicked a pebble into a puddle. He was obviously in full sulking mode and clearly not about to ask about the call.

Aziraphale sighed and tried to get the umbrella to cover them both but it couldn't fit between the two walls where the demon was standing.

"Crowley, come on, this is ridiculous! You know I could not have ignored the calls forever and anyway it was just Gabriel. She's bored, apparently, and decided to check on me. She's the only one who's noticed we're not keeping away from each other and she's not going to do anything about it so everything is fine."

The demon's rigid posture relaxed somewhat but he still wasn't about to move.

"You just want to make me feel guilty when you catch pneumonia, don't you?" Aziraphale muttered folding the umbrella which obviously wasn't gonna help. He looked around. It was the middle of the night and the alley was completely deserted. He took a step forward and spread his wings, lifting them so they could shield them both from the heavy raindrops and angling them so they would fit into the corner. They were suddenly encased in something resembling a white feathery wigwam, almost nose to nose. Crowley raised an eyebrow while Aziraphale spared a moment to thank the Lord that he wasn't in his favorite outfit as his clothes were now completely torn.

Now that there wasn't any danger of the demon getting wet right back again, the angel miracled his dark suit dry.

"Are you going to come quietly or do I take out my flaming ballpoint pen?" he asked mock-sternly.

The corners of Crowley's mouth twitched.

"The rain's gonna put it out."

"Oh, well, at least you're talking to me now. Are you done acting like a child?"

"So I'm a child? What about your folks Up There? They just hate me on principal. That's very mature."

"I admit it isn't. But Gabriel at least wasn't particularly hateful for which I think we should be very grateful. Why exactly are you so upset about 'my people' today in particular? I really don't get it."

"Well, Gabriel just picked a bad time to call. I was about to show you something."

"What?"

"Doesn't matter. Another time."

"Honestly, Crowley, I feel like I'm talking to a five-year-old! What can I do for you tonight so you would stop acting like this? Anything!"

"Really?"

"As long as it doesn't hurt anyone."

"Fine then. Fly me up."

"What?"

"You wanted to know what I want. I want you to fly me up above the city."

The angel was momentarily puzzled by the request but then he remembered the demon's torn wings. Crowley hadn't been able to fly for a while now. You don't really miss it until you lose it. He sighed.

"I just hope nobody sees us."

He wrapped a hand around the demon's waist. A few strong beats later they were already above the roofs of the city and then London was just a bright carpet of lights beneath them.

"High enough?"

"I think so," the demon confirmed and without a warning wriggled out of the angel's grasp.

Before Aziraphale could even react or start wondering why Crowley had suddenly decided to get rid of his current corporation, the back of the falling figure seemed to tear apart and brilliant white wings spread open, almost glowing against the background of the night sky. With a few beats the figure gained altitude again.

There were still some scars visible but Crowley was obviously able to fly again as he was doing loops right now. So _this_ was what he had been meaning to show him. Aziraphale was torn between relief and the desire to strangle the bloody snake for tap-dancing on his nerves all evening. The desire to strangle him won over for the moment.

"Crowley, dear…" he shouted as he dove after the demon. "…you are so dead!"

Crowley just laughed and sped forward.

They eventually ended up on the roof of the bookshop, Aziraphale landing a second after him and punching him on the shoulder.

"You careless, juvenile, insufferable creature! What if someone saw us?"

"Big deal! They'll just think they hallucinated."

"Perhaps," the angel relented, seeing that Crowley was too excited to take his scolding seriously. Not that he ever did. "At any rate, I'm ecstatic to see your wings have healed. But I think it's high time we went back inside for a nice hot cup of cocoa. I'm soaking and I'm tired of evaporating water off myself. I hope you don't insist on staying out in the rain?"

"Reminds me a bit of that first storm. Eastern Gate, remember?"

"Of course I do. And if we had had a roof and cocoa back then, we would have made good use of them."

"Okay, okay…"

Spreading his wings to slow the fall, the demon jumped off the roof… and straight into a puddle. Which just caused him to giggle.

Aziraphale slapped his forehead.

"And he is usually so neat…"

He landed a lot more carefully and followed Crowley into the shop.

"Dear… aren't you gonna tuck those back in?"  
"Do they bother you?"

"No, but…"

"I'd like to have them out for a little while then."

"Whatever you say."

Aziraphale made them both a cup of cocoa and made himself comfortable on the couch next to Crowley who was sitting on the armrest to allow enough room for his wings.

Funny thing. The demon had dried his suit but his hair and wings were still damp. Maybe he had forgotten about them. There was a faint smell of earth, grass and… The angel chuckled.

"You smell like apples."

"Oh, well, better than brimstone, I suppose."

"Certainly. What about me?"

"Dust, obviously."

"Hey!"

"Oh, all right then… cinnamon."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have no idea why."

"Apples and cinnamon."

He chuckled again. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"What did you put in that cocoa?"

"It's just a strange night."

Crowley watched him for a while. Aziraphale had a far off look on his face now.

"What are you thinking?" he asked finally.

"Just something I told Gabriel earlier about children. That they are selfish and cruel sometimes. But, you know, they still have such a great capacity for love. If I didn't know better I would say…"

He stopped short. Words like this from an angel's lips might be dangerous.

"…that God is a child playing with His creations. And he just happens to be in a really good mood today," Crowley finished for him.

Aziraphale nodded imperceptibly.

"But, of course, I know it isn't true" he added quickly.

"Why not?"

"God is not a child! He is… God!"

"I'd rather think he _is_ a child. Otherwise I would have to really hate Him."

"So… you don't hate Him then?"

Crowley thought for a moment.

"Neah. Not really. The people on top usually have little to do with what's going on. It's the middle people that can be really mean. Most of the time Lucifer's a lot nicer than the Dukes. It's just that… he doesn't help you if you get in trouble."

"Hmm…"

They continued to sip their cocoa.

Somewhere else, perhaps a little higher, someone else was doing the same. From a cup with a smiling cow on it, no less.

Everyone has an inner child.

_**# 24 Now**_

"Hey, angel, let's play 'Then and Now'!"

"Again? Why are you so fond of this game lately?"

"It's just fun to compare."

"What are we playing with this time?"

"Hmm… How about you and I? First years together to nowadays."

"All right… Then you were a snake. Now you are in human form."

"Then you had a sword. Now you don't."

"Honestly, dear… Then the 14th century had never existed. Now it's part of History."

"Ouch. Then you had never gotten drunk. Now you do it all the time."

"Well, then you hadn't either and now you do too. Then you didn't have a Bentley. Now you can't live without it."

"The same goes for you and books. Then you liked humans…"

"I still like humans!"

"Not as much."

"Well, fine then! Then you didn't like humans that much. Now you like them enough to face Satan with a tire iron."

"Don't remind me again!"

"Ha!"

"Then you had never been trapped in the body of Madam Tracy. Now you have!"

"Then you had never attempted to face Satan with a tire iron. Now you have."

"Azi, stop it!"

"You started it!"

"Well, Then you would have never thought of facing Satan period, sword or no sword! Now you have."

"Well, Then we had never attempted to save the world for starters. Now we have."

"Well, Then the world wasn't that much of an interesting place. Now it is."

"Then the Ritz did not exist. Now it does."

"Then the Arrangement did not exist. Now it does."

"Hmm… You know, taking everything into account, I think I like Now better."

"Despite always mentioning 'the good old days'?"

"Oh, hush you! You know very well that 'the good old days' are just like 'the great bright future' – they're fine as long as they stay where they belong. In this case – the past. As for now…"

"The Ritz?"

"You're reading my mind."

**# 25 Shadow**

"Aziraphale, I know you have weird hobbies but this is just silly."

"It's not silly! It's classical! It was the first kind of theatre to be invented."

"And it was just as silly back then. And this does not look like a duck at all. Now _this_ is a duck."

"Oh, very good, dear!"

"Thank you."

"What about a dog?"

"Here."

"Great! Can you make a crocodile?"

"Are you kidding? It's one of the easiest, you just have to… What are you chuckling about?"

"I thought you said making shadows was silly."

"Oh, shut up!"

Silence.

"So do you want to see the crocodile or not?"

"Of course."

_**# 26 Goodbye**_

Aziraphale had finally gotten an ansaphone a month ago as a present from Crowley who had insisted they were at least good for trapping malicious demons. And now for the first time in his life he was considering buying a car. The reason for this was the latest message on his ansaphone which had left him very distressed. He wanted to get to Crowley's apartment as soon as possible and he was having trouble catching a cab.

Some time later Crowley, who was watching TV, jumped to his feet in alarm as a much disheveled and very worried-looking angel burst into his apartment.

"Where are you going?!" the angel demanded.

"Huh? What? Nowhere! It's Thursday, I was just thinking of calling you for lunch..."

"Then what was that message all about?!?!"

"What message?"

"'_Hey, angel, I was hoping to see you before I left but you're obviously somewhere on Heavenly business. Well, something came up and it looks like I won't be here for lunch on Thursday. I'd be grateful if you could water the plants. Goodbye,'_" Aziraphale recited.

Crowley blinked.

"I left you that five days ago!"

"I'm sorry, I was in the country!"

"Whatever. But… You learned my message by heart?"

"Well, I heard it seventeen times! And you weren't answering any of your phones!"

"Really? I must have forgotten to turn my cell on after the flight. And I wasn't answering this one because I just got back."

"From where?"  
"Australia."

"A- Australia?"

"Yes. Now will you tell me exactly what in this innocent message has gotten you so worked up?"

Aziraphale sagged a little.

"You… Well, you sounded upset. And… And you said 'Goodbye' instead of 'Ciao'. You never say 'Goodbye'! I was afraid you might mean it..."

Crowley just stared at the angel open-mouthed for a few moments before surprising both of them by closing the distance in between and hugging him.

"You idiot. I sounded upset because they made me fly all the way to blessed Australia to help some newbie clean up the mess he had made and their only excuse was that Australia has the queen on their money so it's considered under my jurisdiction. As for 'Goodbye', I have no idea why I said it but I promise never to forget my Italian again."

Aziraphale laughed a bit shakily in his arms.

"Sorry. I guess I just proved I'm crazy."

"I already know you're crazy. At least you saved me the trip down to Soho to pick you up. Now come on, let's go have lunch. You look like you could use a drink."

They parted much later, in the small hours of the morning, and not before they had made arrangements for the next day.

"Ciao," Crowley said softly in his year as he was giving the angel a parting hug.

Aziraphale chuckled.

"I'll see you tomorrow, dear."

And so he did.

_**# 27 Hide**_

Their friendship was built on comfortable familiarity, on knowing the other inside and out, on almost reading each other's minds. Like good wine, familiarity just grew stronger over time. But there was something else too. Just like with any other thing, familiarity needed its opposite in order to acquire its full value. For Aziraphale and Crowley it was the amazing ability to still successfully hide things from one another, even after six millennia. However wrapped in each other's lives they were, there were always little moments of mystery, little riddles that needed to be solved. Something in Crowley's grin that Aziraphale couldn't place, something in the angel's eyes the demon could not read. There were and would always be secrets to discover.

Honesty and openness are indeed to be valued but in the end, just like Heaven needs Hell to matter, it's the ability to hide things that keeps relationships from growing old.

_**# 28 Fortune**_

Aziraphale struggled to keep his eyes shut despite his curiosity as the demon placed his hand on some smooth, cool surface.

"All right, open."

Aziraphale did so and gasped.

"Oh, dear… You couldn't have!"

His hand ran over the surface of a magnificent antique writing desk, wonderfully well preserved. He looked up at Crowley at a loss for words.

It wasn't particularly uncommon for them to give gifts to each other. But when it wasn't a bottle of good wine (which they immediately proceeded to drink together), it was usually something that was part of a joke. Like Crowley's naked painting that Aziraphale had daringly hung in the back room to prove he wasn't embarrassed. In the end it was the demon who had asked him to 'please move it somewhere, staring at my own ass while I get drunk is just weird'.

But the desk was something else. He couldn't see what amusement either of them could get from a gift like this. This time the demon had gotten him an honest, thoughtful present, something it was obvious Aziraphale would adore.

"But… what for?"

Crowley shrugged.

"Doomsday anniversary? Because that's in three days. But the truth is, I just saw it and thought you should have it. As a sort of equivalent to my Bentley. I know you already have the books for that purpose but... Anyway, like it?"

His grin suggested he already knew the answer. And how could he not. Aziraphale looked only a step away from kissing the desk… or maybe the demon.

Better steer clear of that thought though.

"Oh, I love it! But it must have caused a fortune!"

"So? It's not like I need the money. And a fortune isn't a fortune until it makes you feel fortunate to have it. Which is when you find something to use it for."

Aziraphale's face lit up even more.

"Oh, Crowley, I always knew you had an inner angel."

"Yuck, don't start. And I doubt it. But I know I have an outer one. Works just as well, I guess."

_**# 29 Safe**_

"Crowley, I said put it on or I am not going trough with this!"

"But it looks ridiculous!"

"I don't care! We are doing it the safe way or we aren't doing it at all. Look, I have mine on already."

"Well, it's easy for you! But when have you ever seen me wear anything made of rubber?"

"Don't be difficult, dear. We have to set an example for the children. Safety first."

"But I think it's a bit big for me."

"A few blows and it will swell… See, now it fits perfectly."

"You just want to spoil my fun! It's not like I need it! I mean, what's the worst that could happen if I go without it?"

"You could hit your head and sink and get eaten by sharks. Seriously, Crowley, if you get discorporated for not wearing a life vest on a boat trip, all Hell will fall over laughing when you go begging for a new body!"

"Oh, all right. But only because I can pull off looking dashing even in a great orange rubber inflatable sleeveless."

"Of course you can, dear."

_**# 30 Ghost**_

Aziraphale dropped down on the bench next to Crowley, looking a bit shaken.

"Tempt me with one of these chocolate éclairs, quickly!"

Crowley's eyebrows shot up and he moved the bag of treats out of reach of the angel's hands.

"Why?"

"Oh, Crowley, just give me one!"

"Not until you tell me why."

"Fine then! Gabriel called today and asked me to fill in for one of her messengers who got caught up in an occult trap of some sort. Of course, Principalities cannot usually be divine messengers but the job was urgent so she was willing to make an exception."

"So? You got promoted for a day. What's so bad about that? Were you given a brighter halo and all of the other extra special effects?"

"Yes but that's exactly the problem! I had to leave my corporeal form. Oh, Crowley, you have no idea how horrible it was to be on Earth in an angel's body and not be able to breathe or eat or feel! I would never want to be a messenger in a million years!"

"But it's a higher position," Crowley said feigning confusion but inwardly grinning.

"I don't care! It's like being a ghost! Ghosts are essentially dead! I don't want to be dead, Crowley! And right now I want to make sure I got all of my senses back! I already know I can feel but now I need to taste something."

"Something like this?"

The demon waved a chocolate éclair in front of his face too fast for the angel to be able to take a bite. Aziraphale glared.

"If you don't stop, I'll just bite your hand!"

Crowley laughed and held the éclair in one place in front of his mouth. The angel bit into it and a blissful expression spread on his face.

"He's alive!" Crowley announced loudly to the passers-by, causing amused stares.

Aziraphale was too preoccupied licking the chocolate from his lips to tell him to shut up.

Crowley watched him for a moment.

"You know, there are also other kinds of treats available to the living…" he said lowly.

"Hm? Like what?"

"Like…"

There was a pause. The demon opened his mouth but then closed it with a nervous laugh.

"Like apple strudels," he said finally.

"Oh, yes, I love those!" Aziraphale responded enthusiastically, not appearing to have noticed anything suspicious in Crowley's behavior. "I would love to have an apple strudel! Let's go have some now!"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

They got up from the bench.

While they were walking towards one of their favorite little restaurants, Crowley mentally applied Aziraphale's response to what he had actually meant to say. He imagined the blue eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

'Oh, yes, I would love to have sex with you! Let's go have some now!'

He chuckled lightly.

The problem was, he felt a bit more than amusement at the thought.

Meanwhile Aziraphale threw him a secret glance. He wasn't as naïve as Crowley made him out to be.

'Oh, dear,' the angel thought to himself 'If this is what I think it is, God help us both.'

His heart was beating a little too fast. He could have stopped it but he didn't. After all, it was part of being alive. And he was glad that they were both real and solid and definitely not ghosts. Even if these bodies could cause trouble sometimes…

**End of Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**You Should Know That: **Whatever you think of the use of lyrics in fics, you should hear the song 'Godspeed' on youtube performed by the Cactus Cuties. Do search it, it's such a wonderful version I just couldn't resist it! I have no idea why it makes me think of Crowley... Also, special thanks goes to prone2dementia for being my most fateful reviewer and prompting me to post chapters fast.

**Disclaimer:** Blahblahblah. Not mine.

**Author's Note:** I apologize for this chapter. It has its bright spots but I'm not terribly fond of it. Among the things I dislike about it but couldn't escape writing for some reason are two songfics, one real world crossover and too much time spent on the same character moping. There are probably more annoying things too. Nevertheless this chapter is necessary. So please read and review. You know I post stuff faster when you review. :D

_**Inner Angels and Guardian Demons**_

_**Part **__**4**_

_**Never Say Never**_

_**# 31 Book**_

"All right, it took some time but here it is!"

Crowley proudly handed the book to Aziraphale. The angel raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It took you a lot of time to find a brand new book? Well, you shouldn't have bothered this much, I am more interested in antiques anyway."

"Nevertheless, you'll be interested in this one. It's a first edition, signed by the authors."

Aziraphale who hadn't examined the cover yet glanced down at it.

"'Good Omens' by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett? Crowley, what is this?"

He skimmed trough the first pages and his eyes widened in horror.

"You didn't!"

"I did," Crowley grinned.

"Are you insane?! They're going to kill you for this. Or both of us!"

"No, they won't. They don't read much and, anyway, this sort of thing has been done before."

"It has?"

"Have you heard of 'Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming'? Great book. Some demon sold his story to a pair of writers. Nobody seemed to mind too much. Come to that, those millennial contests Heaven and Hell used to organize were a far better idea than the whole Armageddon thing. They were fun! We should suggest they bring them back."

Aziraphale shook his head, still worried.

"Either way, this is quite reckless. If the wrong person reads it..."

"Look," Crowley began, "I know it was dangerous to have things about the Arrangement written down, okay? But I agree with every word that's in here. And it's not like we're much of a secret to anyone. We get seen together in public all the time and just hope Michael isn't looking."

"Yes but…"

"If you don't want people to know, say the word and every copy will be burned, I'll make sure of it. But at least read it first."

A few hours later, Aziraphale was still crying with laughter five minutes after reading the last page.

"Oh my… Oh my dear God… Was that really us?"

Then he accidentally turned to the first one.

Beneath Pratchett and Gaiman's signatures, there was something written in Crowley's script.

_I would do it again._

_A.J.__C._

Aziraphale stopped laughing.

"Oh, Crowley…"

"So, do you want it destroyed?" the demon asked from his perch on the armrest of the couch.

Aziraphale looked up at him.

What do you think he answered?

_**# 32 Eye**_

"I got it! I sholved the mysssshtery!"

"What myshtery?"

"God. God is Shauron."

"Who?"

"Shauron from 'Lord of the Ringsh'! He's evil!"

"Crowley, you're absholutely trashed."

"Sho are you. But lishen! Shauron had thish big bad eye, right? An' God ish preshzented as this triangle with a big eye in th'middle. Shee the c'nection?"

"No. But I shee pink elephantsh. I think we should shober up immediately."

They did.

"Hmm… I still think God is an evil overlord," Crowley remarked.

And spent the next ten minutes running away from an angel with a flaming pen.

_**# 33 Never**_

One of the reasons Crowley was generally a very happy and optimistic person was that he had discovered the unlimited power of the word 'never'. More specifically, this little word's ability to _not_ stay true to its meaning.

Things had seemed pretty bad after he had Fallen. He didn't like Hell too much and he didn't look forward to the possibility of spending eternity there but it seemed inescapable. He remembered thinking 'I'll never get out of here.'

He did. He was sent to Eden.

After that he gradually started to realize that 'never' really meant 'it might not happen soon but it will happen'.

There were people who said humans would never fly. They did.

There were probably people who had said that a hellhound would never fetch sticks. Dog did.

If enough 'nevers' could be accumulated about something, they acted like a catalyst, causing the event in question to happen.

Crowley was currently working on reminding himself that Aziraphale would never fall in love with a demon.

_**# 34 Sing**_

"Will you sing me a goodnight song?"

The boy's eyes are sunken in and very dark in contrast to his pale skin. He's eleven but looks younger, especially in the middle of the hospital bed.

"A- a song, dear?" Aziraphale asks, caught off-guard. "Oh, my, I'm not sure I know anything appropriate… I should know some kind of Heavenly lullaby, shouldn't I? I really don't think Liszt will do the job…"

He looks at Crowley for help.

"You don't happen to know anything that would fit, do you?"

The demon rolls his eyes.

"I thought no," Aziraphale sighs and turns back to the boy. "Let's see now, do I remember any of the hymns?"

The angel stutters a little more before he hears an exasperated sigh behind him and then a soft tenor fills the room.

_Dragon tales and the "water is wide"__  
__Pirate's sail and lost boys fly__  
__Fish bite moonbeams every night__  
__And I love you_

_Godspeed, little man__  
__Sweet dreams, little man__  
__Oh my love will fly to you each night on angel__'__s wings__  
__Godspeed__  
__Sweet dreams__  
_

The boy is smiling now, eyes closed. The angel turns slowly. There's disbelief in his eyes and a lot of other, undecipherable things.

Crowley just shrugs and continues. This isn't his job but it's not Aziraphale's either. The angel has met the boy's mother accidentally and has asked Crowley to drive him here for an unofficial visit. The demon reasons that his counterpart's fretting would have driven him crazy if he hadn't stepped in. And since his musical horizons are a bit broader than Aziraphale's…

_The rocket racer's all tuckered out__  
__Superman's in pajamas on the couch__  
__Goodnight moon, __we'll __find the mouse__  
__And I love you__  
_

The song is so perfect. Where does the demon get this stuff? Aziraphale's chest feels like it's going to explode and implode at the same time. His heart aches for the child but Crowley's voice fills him with something entirely different. It makes him imagine Crowley as an angel before the Fall. What a thought. Crowley, the snake of Eden, the slick tempter in the Armani suit, the driver of the Bentley that terrifies all London… Surprisingly, Aziraphale doesn't have this much trouble imagining it. His voice is just so... Warm. But then again, it doesn't sound like it belongs in a Heavenly choir. It doesn't belong in Hell either. Just like the demon himself, it belongs here.

_God bless mommy and match box cars__  
__God bless dad and thanks for the stars__  
__God hears "Amen," wherever we are__  
__And I love you_

_Godspeed, little man__  
__Sweet dreams, little man__…_

As Crowley's voice fades, the boy on the bed is already asleep. Aziraphale strokes his cheek one last time. Then he turns and does the same to the demon who is now sitting next to him.

"Thank you, my dear," he says quietly. "You know, sometimes… very rarely, but still sometimes I think you would have made a better angel than me."

Crowley shakes his head.

"Don't go there. What's done is done. I'm not sorry. I just did this for you. Whatever I was before, I'm not an angel anymore."

Aziraphale shakes his head as well.

"Maybe not only. But you know I believe everyone has an inner angel."

Crowley smirks.

"And a guardian demon?"

Aziraphale chuckles.

"Yes. And a guardian demon. I know I have one."

And there's something in his eyes that finally convinces Crowley he doesn't need to be an angel again, even for a moment. Because everything that he remembers as good about Heaven can be found down here anyway.

_**# 35 Wash**_

"What's so funny?"

The grumpy-looking demon was standing in the middle of the room arms crossed and dressed in nothing but a pair of pink Kelvin Kline underpants. The angel who had just walked in was currently on the floor laughing his head off.

"Dear boy, how did that happen?"

"Some idiotic priest managed to catch me off-guard with a prayer that robs me of some of my powers," the demon explained sulkily, "So I'm stuck with real clothes for at least a few more days. And I obviously dropped my red tie in the washing machine along with the underwear."

Aziraphale laughed even harder.

"So now all of your underwear is pink?"

"Except for the black pairs, obviously, but they are being washed right now."

"Well, not to worry, dear. You look cute in pink."

Crowley blushed slightly and gave him a supposedly evil glare.

"Bugger off. When the effects of the prayer wear off I'm donating all of these to you."

"Oh, don't worry; I already own a few pairs like these."

"Seriously, you bought pink underwear?"

"No but I also happen to wash my clothes. And it's the first rule of washing that even if you only own a single red article of clothing, there is an 80 per cent chance that it will get mixed with the whites."

Crowley struggled to maintain his bad mood but in the end he gave up and chuckled. He couldn't help it. He was now stuck with the image of the two of them being seen by the forces of Heaven and Hell trying to load a washing machine in matching pairs of pink undergarments.

_**# 36 Stop**_

It had happened. Without warning, without a chance to react. Michael had found out Aziraphale was disregarding his order and the angel had been taken back to Heaven. Crowley might have hoped it wasn't permanent if another angel hadn't immediately been sent as a replacement. He was haughty and stupid and didn't even like Earth. Crowley hadn't even bothered to remember his name because what did it matter?

He had just woken up one morning and found the message.

'_Crowley, they are taking me back. There's nothing we can do. Please, please don't come after me! I won't be able to live with myself if you got hurt again because of me so__, please, just take care of yourself. Be careful with my replacement, he might not be so open-minded. But if you two manage to work out some kind of… arrangement… I'll be happy and I won't have to worry.'_

Crowley had released a shocked, disbelieving laugh at this. An arrangement? With anyone else? No. There would be no arrangements. There was only The Arrangement and it involved a particular angel.

'_Farewell, dear…' _his ansaphone said finally.

There was a long pause.

'_I love you.'_

And after that morning Crowley's universe had halted. He didn't feel the movement he had always felt while he was on Earth. He didn't hear the world rolling, as Aziraphale had once put it. He was caught in this horrible, hopeless moment and couldn't move.

Everything had stopped.

_**# 37 Time**_

_All of this time…_

He had never felt time weigh him down so much before. Not even when they were waiting for the Apocalypse. Now every minute passed with unbearable clarity. He felt like he was waiting for something and had to constantly remind himself that nothing would come. Perhaps if Aziraphale had been taken from him at another time, say a decade ago, it wouldn't have been quite this bad. He would have been miserable but not completely destroyed. Things would have looked rather gloomy but not utterly hopeless. But now he thought he knew why Heaven had taken so long to act. They had been biding their time, waiting for the most painful moment. Waiting for Aziraphale and him to realize they wanted something and then take that very thing away. Maybe this was the real price of Falling and they had simply waited until now to collect it. He hadn't been _that_ devastated when he had Fallen. Maybe it was because he hadn't been punished properly until now.

_All of this time…_

Was it only when one was in love that things looked so desperate? His rational mind was telling him that he was an optimist, that he should put himself back together. But he couldn't. He simply couldn't. It was terrifying to want one thing as much as he wanted Aziraphale back. It was consuming. He wanted to finally kiss him, to be able to say 'I love you' back, Hell be blessed if they protested. Why now? No - why ever? They weren't doing anything wrong! They weren't hurting anyone. Well, at least not outside the standards for a demon and an angel. If they had only realized earlier… But earlier it couldn't have happened. They had only just fallen in love. They had been friends for a long time, acquaintances forever but they had only just started to love each other like this. It was all of those years together that had made it happen.

_All of this time…_

At the start they had only tolerated each other's company for lack of alternatives. But time had worked its way over the rough edges of their relationship like the waves smoothed the pebbles. They had slowly shaped one another, discovering and reinventing until they fit perfectly together. And now you could easily tell when one part of the puzzle was missing.

Time… Time would dull the pain. Time would let him forget. How long would it take? Another six millennia to balance the ones they had spent together? It didn't matter. He would sit here and wait for his soul to stop hurting. Time would take care of it.

_**# 38 Sudden**_

England was a dark place these days. There wasn't any kind of war going on or even a particular increase in crime but something seemed to be sucking the joy out of life.

That something had a name and it was A. J. Crowley.

With his angel gone, he had nothing to do but focus on work and rediscover the darkest corners of his mind. It wasn't very showy - that wasn't his style. There were no great disasters, buildings didn't fall on young children and husbands didn't kill their wives because of him. But he found inventive little ways to make people unhappy. Not irritated, not angry or scared as before but genuinely unhappy. There were fewer children playing on the streets, the colors seemed duller and everything was quieter, grayer… unexciting. Life felt like moving trough glue.

Crowley wasn't even aware he was doing it half of the time. He was running on autopilot. He couldn't fall asleep anymore but he existed in some kind of apathetic dreamy state. The new angel tried to thwart him, of course, but Crowley was better, smarter and far more experienced. And that wasn't even the reason why all England was pretty much in his grasp. The reason was that most of the time the angel didn't even realize anything was wrong. He just thought that Earth was normally unpleasant. He looked for big events, usually trying to deal with things that Crowley and even Hell had nothing to do with. He considered it his great triumph that the demon wasn't tempting anyone. The actual reason for this was that Crowley couldn't come up with anything that seemed particularly tempting to _him_. The little pleasures of life brought him no pleasure so he couldn't advertise them enthusiastically enough for it to work.

And so it went for what seemed like forever.

And then one day…

"Excuse me, sir…"

He looked up from contemplating his tea. He was in some non-descript café in the center of the city. He never went to the Ritz anymore. A pair of dark eyes were staring at him. They widened when he looked up. He quickly pushed his glasses up his nose but the young owner of the eyes had already seen.

"It's you!" he whispered in astonishment.

Crowley glared at him, trying to remember if he had seen him somewhere. Perhaps one of his victims had caught a glimpse of his eyes at some point and…

"I always knew you were real," the stranger continued in the same low whisper, "Where's the other angel? For that matter, where have you guys both been the last few years? Everything's in a pretty bad shape here! Not that I'm accusing you or anything… Oh, by the way, I never managed to thank you for the song."

Song? Then it hit him. It was the boy. The boy from the hospital. The one they had thought wouldn't live. Grown up, plus a few pounds and much healthier looking but still recognizable. Godblessit. One of his own blessed good deeds was standing right there in front of him! It had been a favor to Aziraphale and he hadn't thought there would be any living witnesses besides the angel but it was still a good deed. Then again, he liked to think it was Aziraphale's doing rather than his. Only the angel could make Crowley do something like this.

A little piece of their past that had grown roots into the present. Just a brief flash of light. It would disappear eventually. After all, humans didn't live very long. But for now it was here.

"So what's been going on with you two?" the young man asked again.

He was surprised to hear his own voice answering.

"I'm preoccupied. The other one is gone."

The boy frowned.

"Gone? As in he's never coming back?"

Something hit Crowley's chest with the force of a falling asteroid. It was so sudden and strong that he barely managed to stay upright.

"Never," he said mechanically. "He's never coming back."

"Oh… That's too bad. But then could you take care of things yourself? I have a daughter on the way and I wouldn't want her to live in a world like this one. Too little fun in it."

A very pregnant woman called from the other side of the street.

"I have to go. Well, I hope I'll see you around."

With a wave, he was gone.

For a long time Crowley just stared at his tea. Then he paid the bill (something he hadn't done in a long time), got into the Bentley and stepped on the gas. He hadn't driven so fast in a long time either.

He was so mad at himself! How had he dared try to forget? Aziraphale did not deserve this! The Arrangement wasn't over. No one could end it but the two of them and they certainly hadn't. What had he been thinking? He hadn't known what to do and he hadn't done anything. It wasn't like him. What had happened to him?

And come to that… what the Manchester had happened to England? It was as if he was looking around for the first time. Was this his work?

He had always thought the two of them didn't matter much but take one angel away, leave one demon with no enthusiasm and you get something worse than Hell and humans together could have cooked up. Maybe Earth needed them at least a little bit after all.

Aziraphale and him. The two of them. But there would never be the two of them again, would there?

_Never. Never. He's never coming back. _

Crowley repeated it like a mantra as the Bentley stopped in front of the boarded windows of Mr. Fell's bookshop. He went into the dusty silence almost taking masochistic pleasure in the sharp stabs of memories that flooded his mind.

"He's never coming back. He's nev- He's never- He's- Fuck it all!"

And Crowley screamed.

He screamed until every bit of hurt, every suppressed feeling was out in the open. Anger, pain, loneliness, desperation, hope, love… It all poured out into the world pushing at its very fabric, making it roll again.

An undeterminable amount of time later, as he sat in the back room on Aziraphale's old couch, completely exhausted, he slowly discovered he could breathe again. Really breathe. Freely, deeply without thinking about it. Lately he had only resorted to consciously making his lungs work whenever he needed his breath to speak. But this was different. This was the real thing. He smiled faintly as he listened to the steady rhythm. The next thing he did was fall asleep.

When he awoke it was early morning. The date on his watch told him it was only the next day. He picked himself up from the couch and cleared the dust from his suit.

He felt better. His favorite magic word was spinning in his head.

_Never. Never. Never. _

It was just a matter of time before the word was proven wrong yet again. Meanwhile he would be busy fixing the whole mess he had made. Compensating wouldn't be easy but he could do it. A bad deed here, a good one there… It would all be fine.

"For when you get back," he whispered to the empty bookshop.

Then he went out into a world that was all of a sudden just a little brighter.

_**# 39 King**_

Aziraphale is happy in Heaven. After all, as a place, Heaven is much less fragile than Earth. If you accept Heaven as your home, there's not much of a chance that you'll ever be homeless. On Earth you have to constantly worry about Heaven or Hell or the humans themselves destroying it. And it's nice in here, with all the light and the pearly gates and everything. It really isn't as bad as Crowley has once tried to convince him. He can live without sushi restaurants, can't he? And Elgar is after all pretty good.

As for Crowley… It's the end of an era, for sure. But going their separate ways was inevitable anyway, wasn't it. Nothing to cry about. It's not like one of them is dead or something. And the demon seems to be doing okay. At first Aziraphale has been on edge, waiting for something to happen, for Crowley to be extremely stupid and come looking for him. But _thankfully_ nothing like that has occurred. Thankfully. And the angel has calmed down just like his superiors have been convincing him he would. Everything is fine.

And then one day a new soul comes to Heaven. A kind-looking old man. There's nothing remarkable about him and he comes with thousands of other souls. None of the other angels notice anything strange. But some of the human souls hear him sing. So does Aziraphale. He's humming under his breath as he walks around. The souls who stop and listen are those who are begging to be sent back to Earth as Guardians. They have left loved ones behind, people who need them. The quiet songs trigger memories. Aziraphel has heard them before, too. Almost everyone who has been to Earth has. They are so famous that they are now considered clichés and people usually sing along on automatic without actually paying attention to the lyrics. But not in here. In here they listen to the words as the old man sings in his rich velvety voice:

_Love me tender, _

_love me sweet, _

_never let me go…_

Aziraphale, too, stands there and listens, although he is not a human. He can't figure out why until the very last verse.

_Love me tender, _

_love me dear,_

_tell me you are mine._

_I'll be yours through all the years,_

_till the end of time._

And what, he suddenly thinks, if things are not all right?

What if Crowley hasn't accepted that this is the end?

What if he's waiting for him?

The demon is so stubborn that if he puts his mind to it, he would wait for that little bird to wear down not one but ten mountains.

Most of the souls who want to go back to Earth will get their wish. But you can't go and ask to become the Guardian angel of a demon. It just doesn't happen.

The angel raises a hand to his cheek when he feels something tickle his skin.

Tears.

It's not until he is already crying that Aziraphale realizes he is completely miserable.

But tears of misery are so out of place in Heaven that no one even notices.

_**# 40 History**_

For how long can you mope when you have forever? Eventually you have to get up and do something. Especially if you're an angel and you can't just lie down and die. Aziraphale decides to take a page from Crowley's book and Be an Optimist and Not Give Up and Formulate a Plan. He turns to something familiar – books.

Heaven doesn't have fiction. Just archives. Those are incredibly boring but Aziraphale dives into them with a passion. He's looking for some kind of loophole, a precedent, a rule that would allow him to go back to Earth.

As he searches, he realizes that it's not just him - angels are more like humans than they realize. As he reads accounts of events, both in Heaven and on Earth, he frowns more than once thinking 'that's not how I remember it'. The History of Existence written in Heaven is just as subjective and incomplete as any human history textbook.

What is the truth behind everything? How much of what he knows to be solid fact is only someone's view on things? He finds a short note about Crowley's Fall which says that he has 'renounced God' and 'surrendered his soul to the enemy'. Aziraphale has never asked directly but he highly doubts this is the case. Knowing Crowley, he probably hasn't given much thought to God at all, let alone officially 'renounce' Him. And he has definitely never cared too much for Lucifer either. The two sentences in the book make it sound so personal!

And the Apocalypse? It's written that the 'Powers of Good bravely averted disaster and saved mankind'. Bullshit! An 11-year-old human child, one that came from Hell no less, simply decided he liked the world the way it was. Heaven had had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Angels shouldn't question but Aziraphale does. Does Ineffable also mean Unchangeable and Infallible? Because if it does, and if his fate is predetermined, what the Hell does anything matter? Trying to be good and moral is a waste of time because you either are or you aren't and God already knows which. And if it _isn't_ unchangeable, if angels and demons have their free will even if it is restricted by rules…

Then he is risking Falling merely by thinking these thoughts.

But this also means that what he does _matters_. And that's the only thing that gives him hope. It means the only thing left to worry about is what History is going to say about his actions.

Quite honestly, he couldn't care less.

**End of Part 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**You Should Know That:** No one seems to be looking at the video for this fic :( I'm insulted. I mean, I know my singing is awful but the pics from deviantart are worthy it ;P

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

**Author's Note: **And this is it, guys. Like it or not, there's nothing I can do about it. Either way, please do tell me what you think. In case you're wondering, the last one is supposed to be from Aziraphale's PoV more than mine since I'm quite unreligious. Well... enjoy.

_**Inner Angels and Guardian Demons**_

_**Part **__**5**_

_**Believe**_

_**# 41 Power**_

Thunder claps and suddenly the power is out in the neighborhood. Crowley's TV flicks and dies along with the lights. He contemplates using his own powers to turn it back on but decides against it. He's only been surfing channels anyway. He moves to the window and looks out into the rainy night.

Total and complete darkness. The clouds are obscuring the moon and stars. He can see well in the dark though. He's delighted at the waves of irritation washing over him. His neighbors are stumbling, cursing in the dark. He narrows his eyes in an attempt to see trough the windows of the block opposite his.

Suddenly, one window lights up. Then another one… and another…

And in spite of himself, Crowley smiles.

People are lighting candles.

_**# 42 Bother**_

"_Crowley, stop that, please!"_

"_Does it bother you?"_

"_Yes!"_

"_Alright, alright."_

_The demon stops for about two minutes but then he starts swinging on the back legs of his chair again. The chair is creaking terribly. The angel rolls his eyes and does his best to ignore him. _

Aziraphale sighs. There's no one to bother him in Heaven. And no one bothers with him either. He focuses on the archives again.

_**# 43 God**_

They won't let him see God.

Aziraphale has never imagined this would happen to him. At least not while he is still an angel. But now, when he most needs it, they won't let him see God. They say he is unworthy because of his doubts and has to 'cleanse his soul from the darkness that has taken root there' before he can meet his Creator again.

Aziraphale is both furious and heartbroken. He needs to talk to God. He needs to explain. He needs to ask for advice. Nobody else here understands. After ages of reading them, he has finally understood that it's what he _can't _find in the archive that's important. _Nowhere_ does it say that he isn't supposed to love a demon. And love him he does. And it's not something that is going to go away. He needs to see God and tell him and hope that he will turn out to be the loving father Aziraphale has known him as and help him. What is he supposed to do now that they won't let him see Him?

But isn't he the one who has always tried to convince humans that God hears them wherever they are and they don't need to see him to talk to him?

_Fine. Fine then. _

Casting a last glare at the angels who guard the Throne, he kneels and closes his eyes, like humans do.

"Dear God, I know you are listening. I would like to talk to you about Crowley. You see, the thing is, I'm sure you already know this, but he is my friend. And recently I have discovered that I… love him. And if you think I should Fall in order for us to be together then… then… so be it! I mean no disrespect but I can't stand this anymore! I can't pretend to hate him. I can't stay here. I need to go back to Earth. I feel more at home there. I know you'll understand…"

"You ungrateful creature! You _do _deserve to Fall!"

Aziraphale's eyes snap open and he looks up at the angel pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"Are you saying you love this demon more than you love God?"

"I didn't say that!" Aziraphale answers, noticing that he is now surrounded by a growing crowd.

"Then if God wants you to stop loving that… that… _scum_, you must do as he commands!"

Aziraphale rises to his feet. He is shaking all over but not in fear. Okay, maybe _part_ of it is from nerves and fear but most of it he attributes to the throbbing, burning ball of rage inside him.

"Then we have different perceptions of God," he says trough gritted teeth. "The God I believe in would never force me to stop loving someone. He would never want to make me miserable. Heaven may do that but not God! And Heaven can go to Hell. What am I talking about? Half of it already has! Have you forgotten? They are like us. We are the same thing! And maybe some of us are white and some are black but most of us are just shades of gray! And my love for Crowley cannot be compared to my love for God. But I wouldn't call either lesser!"

His voice keeps getting louder until he is shouting to the gathered angels.

"The God I believe in doesn't need to hand ultimatums to assert himself! That's why He is great and that's why I love Him. If God was what you seem to think he is, which I don't accept even for a moment, if he really wanted me to choose between Him and Crowley… Then all I believe in would have been a lie! And then I would choose Crowley! Do you hear me?! I would choose to be with Crowley regardless of anything else! Because it's right! Because he is my friend and he has proven it time and time again! Because I love him and love cannot be wrong! Because we need each other! Because Good and Evil are just words!"

Then he abruptly stopped shouting and said the last words in a very calm voice.

"But I know I won't have to choose between them. Because I know that God is great and he understands. Even if none of you do…"

With that, Aziraphale walks trough the gates and out of Heaven.

_**# 44 Wall**_

He had known there might be trouble but they had caught him unprepared when a TV commercial was interrupted by the face of Hastur - ugly and distorted in a feral grin – appearing on the screen.

"You have been doing good deeds, Crowley. We know. You have been seen. You will pay dearly this time."

Crowley jumped in alarm as the wall in front of him started moving forward.

"Not bothering to come and pick me up yourself this time? Scared?" he choked out, although it was quite obvious which one of them was scared and it wasn't Hastur. "Aren't horror movie techniques too complicated and costly?" he asked, indicating the moving wall.

"We'll make an exception this time," the Duke laughed unpleasantly.

The wall was getting nearer. He ran to the door but it was locked as expected and he couldn't open it. Same with the windows. He was praying to whoever could hear him for some annoying marketer to ring his number right then so he could escape trough the phone. But the call didn't come. He stood with his back pressed to the other side of the room, trying to buy some time, trying desperately to formulate some kind of plan as the Duke of Hell's laughing face was coming nearer and nearer on the screen, pushed by the moving wall. Potted plants were being knocked to the floor and crashed by furniture. He moved out of the way and to the corner, watching as his sofa and TV, along with everything else in the living room, were being squeezed with agonizing creaking. It was only seconds before he too was facing the white paint only inches away. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to the side. The pain and panic were unbearable as his body was crushed mercilessly. It seemed to last forever.

And then he was in Hell.

_**# 45 Naked**_

It was nothing short of a miracle that he had managed to escape. Miracle. Could Aziraphale have anything to do with that? No, that was just wishful thinking. But he had been incredibly lucky they had decided to give him a new corporeal form before torturing him. After all, there were some very interesting things you could do to a human body. He shuddered at the memory. He was also shuddering at the cold. He had materialized in St. James Park in the middle of the duck pond. It was night. It was November. It was snowing. And he was naked. He was too weak to summon his suit.

He stumbled out of the water. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go back to his apartment. They would find him there. There was just one other place he could go. It probably wouldn't be much safer but he had no choice. He limped in the direction of Aziraphale's empty shop.

_**# 46 Drive**_

Aziraphale didn't want to believe his eyes as he observed the wreckage in Crowley's apartment and the bloodied corpse on the floor. This was Hell's job. His heart hurt terribly. If Crowley had been dragged down to Hell in such a vicious way, they must have been really angry. Would they let him come back? No, no, it wasn't possible that just when the angel had finally come back the demon would be taken away from him. No. He would go Down There and _take _him back if he had to!

There was just one problem. Aziraphale had never been to Hell in his existence. He had no idea how to get there.

Unable to stand the sight anymore, he ran out on the street. The Bentley was parked in front of the building. He didn't know what made him do it but he got in the car and fumbled with the key clumsily before giving up and starting it with a miracle. Aziraphale had never been taught to drive but that hardly mattered. He sped trough the streets of London in a hopeless act of rebellion, breaking even Crowley's speed record. (He did however miraculously avoid harming anyone because, even in the depths of despair, Aziraphale was still Aziraphale.) He hadn't picked a particular direction but he was in Soho in what seemed like seconds.

He was home.

And as the car stopped abruptly in front of what had been his shop, he slumped over the steering wheel, golden locks hiding his face. He couldn't cry anymore, he was out of tears. In 6000 years things had never gone as bad as in the last decade. He lifted his shaking hand and stroked the side of the car as if the demon, who was so bonded to his Bentley, could somehow feel the touch.

"Damn it, Crowley, I'll go trough Hell and back, just tell me how to find you!"

The only answer was the wind blowing leaves in the windshield.

_**# 47 Harm**_

Aziraphale lifted his head when he heard it. Something like a muffled scream. Only his angelic hearing could have detected it. It had come from the shop. The windows were boarded but the door was ajar and the scream came again from the inside. His heart froze when he recognized Crowley's voice. Could he be back already? Could he have escaped? Had Hell found him again? Aziraphale got out of the car at lightening speed but slowed down when he realized he couldn't just face the forces of Hell with no weapon. He opened the trunk of the car. Out of the items there the only thing that gave him an idea was the old bucket Crowley had used to wash the car with water from some pond when they went for picnics in the country. He quickly filled it with snow, melted it, blessed it and ran into the shop. But when he came inside, the first thing he saw was the divine circle of light. And when he reached the back room it was not a demon he saw standing over the wounded form of his friend. It was Michael with his flaming sword raised. It was obvious Crowley had put up a fight as he always did. The Archangel had a few cuts and bruises that had probably been caused by the broken lamp rolling in the corner. But the demon (for some reason dressed only in underwear and one of Aziraphale's shirts) was bleeding a lot worse and didn't seem able to get up from the floor. Michael hadn't managed to deliver a fatal blow yet but it was a matter of seconds. Aziraphale barely managed to put the bucket on the floor without spilling it all over the room before the sword came down and he leapt forward to grab Michael's hand.

"No! Don't you dare touch him again! You've done enough harm already!"

"Harm?"

Michael stared at him incredulously. Then he lowered his eyes to Aziraphale's hands grasping his. Then to the demon at his feet. Then he looked back at Aziraphale with anger evident on his face.

"What do you know of harm, you dumb, naïve Principality? How can you not see what he has been doing all of this time? Don't you realize you were demoted because of him? You used to be a cherub, one of my cherubs! You used to have a sword like this one and you used to follow orders before he started filling your head with doubts back in Eden! Your orders were to guard the Gate and the tree of knowledge and use your sword to keep the humans away. Not give it to them! You never used to question before you met him! And ever since, he has been driving you further and further away from God! I am merely trying to get you back and save you from Falling. You will never be free of his spell until he is destroyed!"

There was now a small tornado forming around the two angels as they struggled.

"He has been driving me closer to God, you moron!" Aziraphale shouted over the wind, "If it wasn't for him I would have hated the humans! I don't know who I am without him! And without the likes of him you wouldn't know who you were either!"

He finally managed to overpower Michael and take the sword, mainly because the Archangel was honestly trying not to hurt him. The wind quieted down, replaced by silence.

Aziraphale pointed the weapon at his superior, forcing him to walk back towards the door of the room.

"Go away," he said shakily, "Go away and leave us alone! What did either of us ever do to you?"

Michael shook his head sadly.

"You know, I was one of the few who defended you this last time when you left. Many angels wanted you to Fall. But I don't think you've become a demon, Aziraphale. You are just misguided and it is my duty to do everything in my power to save you. I mean you no harm. But he does."

Aziraphale didn't have time to react as the Archangel grabbed the forgotten bucket from the floor and threw it across the room. Aziraphale's scream blended with Crowley's as the holy water hit the demon.

"We smite demons. It's our job. You'll remember how to be an angel eventually and you'll be back with us. No harm done."

Those were Michael's final words before he disappeared. Aziraphale didn't even hear him. He had thrown himself at Crowley's side, disbelief and horror gripping his throat. No demon could survive this amount of holy water. It was what Crowley had feared above all else, it was the kind of death he had had nightmares about and Aziraphale couldn't believe it was happening.

As a burning, blackening hand grasped his sleeve, he wrapped his arms around the body which was quickly turning to ashes and buried his face in the smoking hair. All he could do was repeat _'I love you, I love you, I love you'_ over and over in a choked, broken whisper, not even sure if Crowley could hear him over his own screams.

He wanted it to end for Crowley's sake and at the same time he was clinging to every agonizing second because when it was over, he would be gone forever. Aziraphale just couldn't face that. He knew that a bucket of holy water should kill a demon in about half a minute but time had seemingly slowed down, allowing him one last look into those golden eyes. He was afraid to look but he knew he had to.

And as he opened his own eyes and drew back to tell his demon face to face that he would always love him no matter how many birds in spaceships wore down how many mountains, he saw something that should not have been there. The skin on Crowley's face was almost untouched which was impossible because it was wet with water.

A small white circle was glowing faintly on the demon's temple.

In Aziraphale's head something clicked and when he saw a similar circle where he had pressed his lips to Crowley's hair, he knew for sure. It was the kiss. The one kiss he had given the demon while he had been asleep, seemingly so long ago. That was the reason it was happening so slow. An angel's kiss given to a demon. Had that ever happened before? This little token of love was now fighting death. It was slowing the process down but it couldn't stop it.

"Oh, God!" Aziraphale whispered and without even thinking, caught Crowley's cracked lips in a desperate kiss. He prayed with all his might that it would work because otherwise he would just have caused his friend more suffering.

He forgot to breathe and didn't break the kiss until he felt the writhing subside and the screams that were stifled in his mouth turn to whimpers. Then he pulled away, opening his eyes. The decay had stopped, some of it reversed. The clothes had been burned and he could see Crowley's body was whole again but covered in wounds and burns. Aziraphale didn't dare feel relieved yet. He picked his friend up and placed him on the couch.

"Crowley?" he whispered, hoarsely.

His only answer was a pained whimper. The angel bent down again and pressed soft kisses to his forehead, then his neck and chest, every bit of unburned skin he could find. Each kiss spread its power over a small area, healing the damage around.

"If I had known it would protect you, I would have kissed every inch of your body long ago," Aziraphale whispered, returning to the demon's face which had relaxed a tiny bit. The whimpers had stopped. Crowley took a deeper breath and coughed out some ashes. The burns from the holy water were now gone but the wounds from the flaming sword remained and Aziraphale felt himself panicking again. Those were serious enough by themselves and they would be fatal if not taken care of fast. Could he really save Crowley's life or had he just bought them a few more minutes? He had never tried to heal the demon with his powers before. Crowley had taken care of himself in the past but now it was out of the question. Aziraphale closed his eyes again in fervent prayer.

_Dear God, if you can hear me, please, I beg of you, give me the power to save him. I believe in you and your endless mercy and compassion. Please, __**help us**__!_

And then he felt it in his heart and his head. Not a voice - something older than words. But it felt like encouragement, like reassurance.

_You're doing fine, just keep going__ and it will be all right. _

Aziraphale concentrated and summoned every ounce of power he had, feeling the cuts start to close beneath his hands. He could do this. He had come this far. He had walked out of Heaven, attacked an Archangel and questioned everything he had ever known. He would do this even if it took forever.

In the end, it took half the night. When finally the skin beneath his fingertips was unmarred again he was so exhausted that he was afraid he would faint any moment.

"Wow."

The quiet voice pulled his mind out of the fog it was lost in. The angel looked down at the owner of the voice.

"Did I witness you calling Michael a moron and pointing a sword at him?" Crowley asked with the ghost of a smirk, "Not very angelic of you, angel."

Aziraphale stared at him for a full minute, as if he couldn't get enough of Crowley's eyes looking back at him. Then he collapsed in dry sobs on the demon's chest.

"I- I thought-"

Crowley wrapped his arms around him and even mastered the strength to summon a blanket to cover them both.

"Shh, it's all right. I'm still here. Aziraphale…"

"Mmm?'

"Love you too."

From somewhere else, two beings watched the angel and the demon.

"So what now? They live happily ever after?"

"As happily as before, I suppose. But not more unhappily."

"Did you know how it would end?"

"I had… forgotten."

"Me too."

"If we knew everything, we would go crazy with boredom."

"But it's not really over yet. Michael and Hastur…"

"Oh, I think we can help there."

"Help? We didn't move a finger to help until now."

"Oh, but now it won't really change anything. Based on what we've seen so far, they would probably find a way to deal with Michael and Hastur anyway."

"So you only help those who probably don't need it."

"I'm afraid so. Unfortunately the world becomes horribly unbalanced otherwise. You have heard the saying: Help yourself so…"

"Yeah, yeah. So what? Are you going to make Michael Fall?"

"Don't even think of it! Michael as a demon would be worse than anything you could imagine. No. He will simply… forget. It will be for the best. And I hope you will take care of things on your end."

"Hmm… All right but only because I owe you a favor or two."

"Splendid. And now… Chess, my dear?"

"Of course."

Which was why when Crowley and Aziraphale woke up the next morning there was a note on the table, written in the language of Heaven and Hell.

_Things have been taken care of. Just go back to your duties. _

Which they did with heart-melting relief.

_**# 48 Precious**_

"Say cheese!"

"Aziraphale, what the Manchester has gotten into you?! We haven't left the shop in three days and the reason you go out now is to buy a camera?"

"Well, yeah, I thought it might be fun. Consider it an early Christmas present for us both. Look, we even got an album as a bonus."

"'Precious moments'?? And kittens on the cover? Spare me!"

"Besides, we really should go out. It's a lovely weather outside."

"It's bloody November! Aziraphale, you're an angel, have mercy! I was kicked around by demons and almost killed by an Archangel; I do _not_ want to freeze!"

Aziraphale blatantly ignored him.

"I also went to your apartment to, erm, clean up a bit. It's fixed now."

Crowley sighed and jumped down from Aziraphale's antique desk where he had been sitting.

"All right, all right. I got the hint. I'm out of here."

"What? Wait, no, that's not what I meant!"

To the demon's surprise, Aziraphale was upon him in an instant, practically toppling him over the surface of the desk.

"You're not going anywhere! Or at least not without me! And if we do go to your apartment…"

There was a pause.

"It will be because it has a bed," the angel finished.

Crowley's jaw dropped and Aziraphale used the opportunity to kiss him. After a second the demon shrugged inwardly and responded. A sudden realization hit him. This wasn't amateur stuff.

"You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" he muttered against the angel's lips, eyes wide "You pervert!"

"Now, now, sex is just an expression of love, dear," Aziraphale mock-admonished him, "And I'm supposed to be familiar with all of its expressions."

"You bloody bastard, how come you never told me?"

"You mean 'Hello, Crowley, dear, let's meet at the Ritz for dinner. And by the way, I had sex today because if I do get you in bed at some point I don't want to feel awkward'? Imagine that."

"Desk."

"Sorry?"

"Not in bed. You've gotten me on top of a desk."

"Yes, well, I knew it would come in handy."

Crowley laughed.

"You've achieved your goal, I see. You're either a great actor or you're really not feeling awkward at all."

Aziraphale chuckled.

"Just trying to make some 'precious moments'. Although I don't think we should catch these on camera."

Crowley finally got his wits about him and grinned.

"Well, you're getting a run for your money, mister 'I've done it before'!"

And precious moments they were, even if they made the kittens on the album cover blush.

_**# 49 Hunger**_

"Ah, the Ritz!" Aziraphale sighed, sinking gratefully into the comfortable chair. "It's still the same."

Crowley was surprised himself. With the gloomy state all England was still in (they had a lot of work ahead of them), the restaurant managed to look quite cheerful. Or maybe it just depended on the company. He grinned at his companion.

"Hungry, angel?"

"Oh, you bet! I haven't tasted food in ages! I'm officially going native too because I could swear I really do feel hungry."

Crowley laughed and ordered every favorite food he could come up with at the moment.

And everything was right with the world again.

_**# 50 Believe**_

I believe in sunshine.

I believe in old books with dusty covers.

I believe in ducks.

I believe in humans.

I believe in traffic jams. In miracles. In smiles. In chocolate éclairs. In angels and demons and the Antichrist. In sunflowers and butterflies and rain.

I believe in you.

I believe in us.

I believe in happiness and trouble and how the two don't negate each other.

Among all of this, I also believe in God. But even if I didn't…

It doesn't matter what you believe in. It's only important that you do.

**The End**

**Author's Note: **Please, push the little Review button on the left. Last chance! Pretty please?


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